For Jewel

Time marks us so gradually
that we scarcely notice
the change it leaves upon us.

I am aware of my mortality.
I know the ceaseless march of
days will in fact end.

Inevitable. Inescapable.
How many ways are
there to state this?

My niece is no longer an infant.
She is beginning to walk
and use the simplest of language.

There are gray hairs colonizing
my beard. The settlement is
becoming a small village.

How much longer until the village
becomes a city? How much longer
until my niece calls me by name?

Our old dog grows older.
Should I envy her natural ignorance?
I'm not sure. I'm not sure.