Volume > Issue > Old Age

Old Age

A POEM

By Anne Keith | November 1983

Accept the wind —

Insanity would fight it now.

It is no angel to be wrestled with.

Accept the wind —

Exalting in the ripping off of color

from the trees.

It deals in stripping and revealing

nakedness.

Accept the wind —

The time has come for seeing

Trunk, and limb, and twig.

Accept it with great joy

Knowing that God appointed sap

To rise again.

An Apostrophe to Wordsworth’s Period

Wordsworth, thou shouldst be living at

this hour.

England hath need of thee, so hath…

The Prodigal Father and His Child

“Well, Father, my share of the farm has

been turned into gold.

I take it…

To Phoebe*

Phoebe,

Gentle handmaid

Of us all,

Who assisted Paul

And others

Of the early church,

…