Forty-One

Forty-one looks like

Autumn flames consuming the maples,

The predawn goodmorning 

Of a beautiful woman who loves me,

A circle of smiling friends 

Discussing sin and redemption,

A long afternoon nap,

Cuddles on the couch while the Chiefs

Fight their way to last-minute heartbreak,

Shrimp tacos and chocolate chip cookies,

Perfect gifts wrapped by a seven-year-old,

And bedtime blessings before an early night.

Faces

I cannot look away, these days,

From the face of the moon

Or the face of a newborn baby

Without gazing for a while,

Staring at fresh new glories

Barely veiling ancient ones.