Turning Fifty

Having known war and peace

and loss and finding,

I drink my coffee and wait

for the sun to rise,

With kitchen swept, cat fed,

the day will quiet,

I taste my fifty years

here in the cup.

Outside the green birds come

for bread and water.

Their wings wait for the sun

to show their colours.

I'll show my colours too.

Though we've polluted

even this air I breathe

And spoiled green earth;

though, granted life or death,

death's what we're chosing,

and though these years we live

scar flesh and mind,

still, as the sun comes up

bearing my birthday,

having met time and love

I raise my cup -

dark, bitter, neutral, clean,

sober as the morning -

to all I've seen and known -

to this new sun.