Old Couple, Outdoors

Two streets over, an elderly couple live in a dark house, swallowed by white wrought iron, ivy, and lawn ornamentation. Yesterday I saw them take advantage of the warm weather by coming outside. The wife, much sturdier than her pyjamma-clad husband, sprung open a lawn chair and parked him in it, then proceeded to vacuum leaves and other detritus from their latticed gazebo.

Is there any way of knowing, statistically, how many more old ladies than old men are taking care of their spouses? I put my money on many, many more old women doing what that old woman was doing.

Interesting, also, was how absorbed both of them were in the work--this same man who, a few years ago, offered to hose me down while I jogged on a hot day!

It reminds me of a poem I wrote a few years ago about another, more independent pair:


Old Couple, Out Of Doors


The pulse of the sun is theirs

to glare at interlopers

pushing strollers,

kids who trespass

their bermuda grass,


free to shoot black birds

because the plumage is ugly

or fatten a pekingnese

tormenting squirrels


their pleasure

to hang on

until dark,

not owning the light.