Four Score

I‘ll celebrate and grieve my eightieth,
Not one or the other, both together
I’m already celebrating, grieving
For almost all the journey has been done

November light, leaves of half naked trees,
Varied beauty in the spray of instants,
The accustomed aches, familiars of flesh,
My fierce resolve unchanged from early on

Bafffled array of costumed characters
Have I been, diaphanous as I tried
To see through kaleidoscope that was me
Arrived at ignorance, lost cargo pride

I represent myself, not littoral
But still sailing blues of sea, gold of sun