Gifts

My good friend Tom celebrates his upcoming 67th with a hike up a mountain, during which he wrote a new poem. It concludes:

Around the corner is an old man wearing 

Shirt-front slobber, incontinence painted on the trousers.

I know wiring gets hinky when brain matter mushes.

Standing on my head to avoid the swelling -- inevitable

with enlarging numbers -- I come up with a 99 but

Don’t expect much of it.   

Sometimes the best gifts are one's own.