OUR RICHES FOR HAVING LIVED
A TIME TO TALK
When a friend calls to me from the road
and slows his horse to a meaning walk,
I don't stand still and look around
On all the hills I haven't hoed.
And shout from where I am, "What is it?"
No, not as there is a time talk.
I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground,
Blade-end up and five feet tall,
And plod: I go up to the stone wall
For a friendly visit.
And if we haven't learned during this Covid experience that it is the little things, the chat with a neighbor, a cup of tea at two, a wave across the street, a pause...a pause...a pause...to spend a moment
with a friend .
Memories are what life is filled with.
Memories are our riches for having lived.