my fingers and toes. I can
count on tomorrow coming and
going, even without knowing
what will become. I can count on

the sun rising in the morning and
setting in the evening. I can count
on the changes that come with the
seasons. I can count on death taking

us away. But where it will take us
I cannot say. I can count on the tide
rising and falling, the stars in the sky,
the nightingale calling. I can count on

babies being born, suckling their
mother’s breast, and the robin in spring
preparing her nest. I can count on
snow giving me a chill, and the smell of

steak when its cooking outside
on the grill. After all this time
I thought I could count on myself –
but found I could not.