Antler

A crooked, crippled piece of bone
knotted by age
it looks of an egret
standing in the swamp, ready to fly

As you look at it
when you feel the tip
you can visualize the figure and form
of its head and curved spine

An egret is this
of which it has great wings to fly
its soft feathers are smooth
and its stalky legs. hard and bony.

In the quiet of dusk
it slowly hunts the fish
one foot up, one foot down
silent, careful – SNAP

The egret lives life
taking each day in stride
a recollection of places been
of sights seen

The antler, old and worn,
just a memory of what was
a relic to the young
of a world gone by.

The egret grown old
a dry, parched horn
the age of old holds my future
“My feebleness is my end.”