We have fine neighbors who are going clunky.
90 klicks from town, they’re old and spunky.
Their medicine is the garden, birds and a fiddle.
They feed and cook on a woodstove griddle.
One can’t walk and the other can’t see,
Cecil has a respirator, numb hands and a wheeze.
He sits at the road and waves to all.
When vehicles honk, geese also call.
His shoprider scooter hums here to there,
With a basket carrying his tools and wares.
Jean does things that get her in trouble.
She lifts and climbs, falls down, then grumbles.
I often pick her up by the scruff of her neck.
Then remind her – “I give you my full respect.
Someday when I pluck you off of the ground
You’ll be dead. Now, I am glad you’re around”.
Jean and Cecil are in their 80’s. We have no other year around neighbors for many miles.