It Must Be A Middle Age Thing Poem by ACHINGLIU KAMEI

In the early morning he stood in the garden,
Gazing upwards at the pinkish sky.
The birds' orchestra announce,
The longest summer day.
He bent down to touch the soft leaves of lilies,
The rough leaves of the bean vine,
And sigh, looking at his rough hands,
He ambled back to the kitchen,
Made for himself breakfast and as he sat down,
Had second thoughts. He went out,
And sat on the garden bench he built for her.
Watching gardening tips on U tubes,
Was never his thing.
Lately he enjoyed it much more than
Anything else he had ever done in his youth.
The chayote squash had grown and grown,
The sturdy and strong trellis
Ready to welcome the fruits in summer.
Their children's children should be visiting soon,
But for now, he sat listening,
To the buzz of the busy bees.