She says with some sadness that it
interests her to see who slows to her pace
and who does not
who among her friends accommodates
these changes wrought by age and misfortune
and who does not
who is willing to listen to speak
of loss and acceptance
of grief
and letting go
and who is not.
One wonders what threatens
what beckons
what retreats
what hides
in the feckless heart
what crooked bony finger implies
you too will succumb
you too will fail, will falter, will fall.
