Short Poems By Frank Robinson

Every morning in the half-light 
the ghost of me slowly reappears

After all these years,
old age comes not as a prize
but as a test.

Dozing on the bus,
I completely missed the beautiful view again.

Such energy -
as if they had been waiting all their lives
to be eighty

Surrounded by flowers,
surrounded by people -
I should learn their names.

In a plane -
looking at the back of heads,
as interesting as the fronts.

Preparing for the test -
not realizing
the test has come and gone.

There is no courage without fear,
and no virtue without temptation.

The obit editor decides
which of us will have a famous death.

At some point
you become afraid not of dying
but surviving.

I haven't lived there in fifty years
and yet when you ask for my address...

So many birds
left their tracks on our walk,
I had to stop shoveling.

On the way back
our dog
studies her own footprints in the snow.

We know each other so well,
we know the length of the leash between us.

The deer
on their Fred Astaire legs
come dancing through the snow.

The clumsy frogs
jostle the reeds
as they swim
far below the surface.