<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><p class="">Those who Call themselves Elders</p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class="">I dreamt of the gray-haired amongst us</p><p class="">who carry aloft on long dominant arms</p><p class="">huge beams of salient energy – cambers of their lives</p><p class="">congruent and cherished curves</p><p class="">resting on old-world joists</p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class="">Their arms shone as light refracted</p><p class="">against a hovel of clouds</p><p class="">like aroused hues captured</p><p class="">after a long flight</p><p class="">as the craft descends</p><p class="">piercing amber and unstable air</p><p class="">dancing with lift while holding dew and place</p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class="">Such light shivers alive</p><p class="">unaccustomed to being disturbed</p><p class="">let alone witnessed in beauty</p><p class="">or in reverence</p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class="">I dreamt these gray-haired ones</p><p class="">spoke far less often</p><p class="">preoccupied perhaps with</p><p class="">readying themselves</p><p class="">for unfamiliar rituals</p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class="">Their soft eyes gaze pass the horizon</p><p class="">landing on new light</p><p class="">blurred to the vision</p><p class="">of dragons</p><p class="">or dragonflies</p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class="">Awake now to their prestige of instinct</p><p class="">awake now to the great unknown</p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class=""><br class=""></p><p class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- P. Gregory Guss</p><div class=""><br class=""></div></div></body></html>