Buried under stacks of papers
And wondering how to get out, I
Retired from
Teaching English.
Brilliant thought to
Retire, giving me time to run
Into the splendor of
Autumn, able from
Neglect to free my garden.
Poetry now drips from ink
Onto this paper
To tell you my
Tale that I shall
Ever relate of joy in
Retirement.
October 2020
About This Poem
The inspiration of this poem is overly obvious as an acrostic, but it's me now in retirement, a poem that would be very different from an earlier time in my life. Instead of posting a picture of myself (though that is my hand) I chose a recent photo with my name on my Bloomsday number. You will notice that the B is after Brian and that is because I have always claimed Bart as my middle name, but now everything HAS to match your birth certificate or you might not be a citizen. I even had to change my social security card to match my birth certificate so that I could collect my retirement pay. Crazy. Just one more way we are losing our individual autonomy--God forbid we choose our own names!
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