Let Sleeping Tigers Lie

Tiger-like, I once would leap with alert body and mind,
uncoiling in hair-trigger lightness from alleged sleep,
to pop the alarm clock within a second of its own awakening,
to grab the phone across the darkened room before
its first ring decayed and a second bloomed in its place.
I still swiftly swipe and silence the alarm,
chiming and flashing on the nightstand,
still jump at that first ring of incoming call, too.

But where I would mash or crash with
the aggressive audacity of an RAF fighter jock
scrambling to his Spitfire to meet incoming bogies
over The Channel, now I tickle my granddaughter’s chin
as she smiles at her granddad from the photo
on my cellphone’s lock screen.
Blitz be damned, no one wants me to leap much anymore.
Old-man moans and cracking bones disturb
the house more than alarms and ringing phones ever did.


4 thoughts on “Let Sleeping Tigers Lie

  1. Aww, Joe. That’s such a great poem, I felt the urgency of youth with excitement and a touch of harassment. But gosh, I hope those creaking joints aren’t as bad as you say – I hope it’s just that you’re more aware, because there’s more stillness in your life now. Stillness is good. But it does give voice to things that once could be ignored. Sending hugs. xVivienne. (OneVoicePoetry)

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