Sunday, July 5, 2009

A Pickle Poem

The threat of death
makes a wondrous
condiment.

Eighteen months ago
my dolorous doctor
announced that my liver
might have
but three to five years
left on it.

Time passes.

Now I notice that
birds sing louder,
trees grow greener,
and strangers
smile more.

Every day,
a present
to unwrap.

Thank you, Doc,
for shaking that
unexpected spice
onto my life.

The closer
to the end,
the more alive
I feel.

- mce

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