STILL, AT 69

I still think the world
wakes up each moment.
I still want
to toil in the fields of books,
to rest in the green grass of thoughts,
to see dawn
shake out its hair over the sea,
to help myself
to whole hours of happiness.
I still want to feel the freedom
of walks on far-away trails,
of words waving their arms on pages,
of poems sailing somewhere like ships.