As I look back on 70 years, I do the typical math.
I toss out 15 years for being too young, then six months
Or so that are a bit hazy in the 60s and 70s.
And the rest is pretty much silent running, so to speak.
More ups and downs than a two-dollar whore.
And it comes out here: right here, right now.
Still rolling along, a little lamer, a little, well, tamer,
But doing new things, learning new words
And ways to move my hands in some new task
And ways to think, yes, that’s the best of the lot:
New ways to think. Example: the Prothonotary Warbler.
Long supposed to be called Prothonotary because
Papal Clerks in Byzantine Rome wore yellow robes.
Aside: the Prothonotary Warbler is yellow.
Well, a slew of sceptics called bullshit on that.
Scribes wore black robes, sometimes trimmed
In colors more suited to the gravity of their post.
Put a research in the slot: out comes a truer tale.
The bird acquired its melodious name in the South,
Louisiana, where a bit of French floats around.
A Protonotaire is the head notary in a community.
A nice guy, but rather on-and-on about things.
The call of the Prothonotary Warbler sings same.
It wasn’t the color, but the colorless song.
Life is delightful.