Sometimes an old man is like a mountain,
standing with a peak of white
and cursing at the foothills about him.
Usually he just sits and waits.
But for what, old man?
Have you found what you were looking for?
Perhaps you have,
as you sit there winking
your twinkling eyes,
brushing back the shaggy
white hair from
your ruddy face.
Perhaps you have.
*
A sixteen year old’s vision of an old man in which this old man-mountain recognizes only the foothills he curses.