The world spun on—
same rotation from West to East,
same speed, same seasons
in the same order.

Tides did their usual thing,
waves made their lapping sounds,
seagulls screeched their indignation.

Over in No. 80
small changes were noted:

the kitchen table
listing to one side,

no back and forth
of a conversation
sixty years
in the making.

Elsewhere:

the faint sound of
uilleann pipes,
slide guitars,
pianos playing
traditional laments,

and Louis Armstrong
having to remind us
it’s a wonderful world.