I post my poem, Must Be at My Best, as a link, and I know it ain’t even half-the-way there! Except the common thread is, like Yeats, I’m arrived at a point where I ponder on growing old. Bouts of illness warn me that fading vitality, stamina and strength will soon declare the venues and arenas where I once brashly and boldly walked in, now, ‘no country for old men’.
2011. This was another year sucked quietly from the blood (Kenneth Slessor). We went to