Old age is <br />a flight of small <br />cheeping birds <br />skimming <br />bare trees <br />above a snow glaze. <br />Gaining and failing <br />they are buffeted <br />by a dark wind -- <br />But what? <br />On harsh weedstalks <br />the flock has rested -- <br />the snow <br />is covered with broken <br />seed husks <br />and the wind tempered <br />with a shrill <br />piping of plenty.<br /><br />William Carlos Williams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-waken-an-old-lady/
