Sixty Five - a reflection

Six o’clock
And the morning air is chilly
With the moon descending on the western hill
And Orion’s belt standing out bright and clear
With Sirius and Jupiter to the left and the right
And Venus way over to the east
Where the sun will rise on my birthday.

Sixty five is the number
But my early venturing was to reconnoiter,
Were those nimble varmints, the racoons,
Digging up my lawn for worms again?
Padding down the upturned turf
Is not my chosen treat
Especially today!

Far across the globe
My mother, who bore me
On a colder morning so long ago,
Now slips softly into a coma of quiet waiting,
For God to call her home,
And the World turns
Another time.