The Hourglass
On losing my Uncle Wylie, as good a man as there ever was. And turning 67, at which point you know there's a lot less sand on top.
The Hourglass
Time is running out.
See that last grain fall?
It will land on top
of the tiny hill below
and tumble down
the short slope
to rest against the wall.
I might tap the hourglass,
with my fingernail,
twice to be sure
it has settled in.
Time comes to all kings,
not to flatter but depose.
Soon I too will seek
my angle of repose.
RIP Uncle Wylie. BTW, don’t tap the hour glass Wes! Let the last grain stick.
Sending love to you and your family, Wes, on the loss of Wylie. Uncles have such a way of helping us feel loved in a simpler more playful way than we get to have with our parents. We feel their delight, more like a young, fun grandparent, I think.