A late February evening
A tree lined silhouette
On the far horizon
Against a sunset
Of burnished gold .

The older we grow
the faster life goes,
priorities change
quality of living
and loving takes
precedent, over
self-indulgence
and material things.
Nothing as important
as family and friends.

It is racing now,
these fleeting days
and years, reflected
most in my grandsons
growing too soon from
children to young men.

Along with Steller parents
our little farm provides
a learning ground for the
kids, teaching life lessons
that inspire character and
self-discipline, with Cows
and pigs to show at fairs,
pride earned with accomplishments
and Blue Ribbons to share.

So lucky am I having a ringside
seat, watching yet another family
generation grow and ascend,
Football and basketball
games to attend, Christmas
morns of excited children
clamoring down the stairs,  
many birthday celebrations
with ever more candles aglow.
Memories all, retained and shared.

Perhaps the best part is,
these grandsons of mine,
still are up for hugs and
good night kisses, genuine
affection received and given.

Families are a true blessing
and a privilege, the only
real reason we are here.

All these things, remain the
sweet frosting on my aging
Grandfather's cake of life.
I sometimes wonder where
I would be without all these,  
my reasons for being?

Under bright light, there they are again, close
up upon my desktop, two stark reminders
of my long ago-departed grandfather's hands,
that now I have reluctantly inherited. Stiff and
painful just as his must have been while nearing
his own inevitable end.

Hard used-weathered and bony, liver spotted
with nearly transparent skin, vains clearly
visible, wrinkled derma like aged yellowing
parchment paper. Fingers having grown
untrustworthy of dexterity and strength, not
my hands I recall from even ten years ago.

I loved my Granddads hands, they fit
his other features; gentle, comforting and
reassuring. I knew them and him no other way.

Now my hands and face viewed up close are
becoming bitter daily reminders of my own
precious and fleeting time.