At Forty

Photo by Joni Brennan-Hazlett

At Forty

I don't remember
where I was going
or how I got here
except for a few moments
in the womb of a train at night

outside the window a moon
and inside a sound
so steady it seemed like silence

it's too late I know
but I keep thinking it will
get earlier I will start
getting younger slowly
and this time doing it backwards
I will do it right

and finally I will
grow smaller and become
a good wise child at last



                     Richard Shelton