The bench I rest on,
is not fully in the sun;
but today is rather mild,
and my walk is nearly done.

The quiet is a stranger,
the traffic's almost nil;
no breeze to stir the air,
the pace of life is still.

Bill William's peak is to the north,
a mountain man of years ago;
the hills of Prescott to the south,
bask in the morning's glow.

In 5,000 feet of altitude,
I am parked upon this bench;
reflecting on life's journey,
and its sometime monkey wrench.

I note that I am satisfied with love,
daily walks; music and good books;
my mind contains glad memories,
of life's ever-changing looks.