By Reena Stamets
My body brings the news
One silver hair at a time,
Alighting on me
Like birds on a wire,
First one, then some, then so many.
The wire swings dangerously
As they chatter to the world
That I am truly, officially
Old.
As if I didn't already know
When the orange seller called me aunty, and
When my ankles crack-cracked like popcorn when I stood up.
I look at the jaunty sun, wondering
If it ever gets tired putting on its daily show —
Rise and shine, rise and shine,
Rise and shine, more rise and shine,
Relentlessly bright, a teacher’s pet.
I confess I much prefer the moon,
Sleeping in full sight through the day,
Lounging on a cloud, no apologies,
But then showing up all dressed for dinner,
Making her entrance,
A spangly aunty.