Financial planning session
Mountain camping, night sky starred,
crickets chirping, lantern light.
Father clutches four wallets,
each fat with cash, looks back
at 70 years with profit, knows
he must hoard them
but cannot remember why.
I try to help him understand,
do my best to teach.
In all the universe, I say,
one planet like ours whirls
every two solar systems, or three,
at most a handful per galaxy.
They spin along, crusts cooling
like croissants in some galactic oven,
then, for one second --
maybe a million years our time --
potential for life.
But orbits decay, north stars change,
and they wobble like tired tops
toward snow, ice, night.
One beats the odds, creates beings,
intelligent, with dreams.
They perish -- hate, war, greed.
Back to me, Father is quiet,
feigning sleep. Tomorrow,
he murmurs, let's talk stocks,
bonds, annuities.
Timothy Pilgrim