Some Tenderness

This stage is when the soul allows for some tenderness.

      The body, no longer young, can finally accept 

time's allotments as neither brutal nor necessary:

      merely the way it wears itself, inhabits its own

ephemeral garments in the only way it can.

      The ways it stumbles and makes mistakes, 

the way it has a weakness for moonlight, clean floors, 

      neat drawers; ink pens, marginalia.   

The way it has a weakness for moonlight, clean floors;  

      the ways it stumbles and makes mistakes,

ephemeral garments. In the only way it can:

      merely the way it wears itself, inhabits its own

time's allotments. Neither brutal nor necessary,

      the body— No longer young, can finally accept

this stage is when the soul allows for some tenderness.