Handle of Osage Orange

 

            Leaving the Corps at twenty

            I could have gone back

            Or into college or law

            Enforcement.  What did

            I know but the Corps’ training?

            Looking back I would

            Not have been the same.

            Later on I was willing enough

            To fight but not as before  –

            Retired at thirty-five

            Or forty but less preparation

            For introspection and worry

            Better liked perhaps but dull.

            My knife plunged into some

            Old dried wood.  Its handle

            Of Osage orange bright

            And well-cared for

            Amidst the dried

            Wreck of a tree,

            Those parts of me.