Hearing

I sometimes wonder 

in my advancing years 

if I am losing my hearing. 

 

People do not 

talk loud enough.  

They do not 

enunciate their words well.  

Not as loud 

and as clear 

as when 

I was much younger.  

Just about the time 

I feel that all hope is lost 

it will snow.  

The snow,

 not sleet, 

not ice, not rain,

will begin to fall 

on the metal 

around the chimney 

for the fireplace 

in my bedroom 

and I can hear 

every flake 

land. 

 

Flakes that are 

as light as a fairies foot.  

As light as an elf scampering 

across my roof.  

As light as an imp 

trying to get in 

to do mischief.  

And then and only then 

am I reassured 

that all is well with the world 

and that I can,

in fact, 

hear once again 

as a young man.