Ruth Z. Deming

Mirrors at this age
avoided
though the legs
still look fine
the face
sad to say
has more to say
than ever before

by chance I saw myself
this morning
in the sideview mirror
of my car
a field of lines across
my cheeks
my hand went up
to embrace them
so this is you,
I whispered,
this is you.

I liked what I saw
how the field of wrinkles
criss-crossed one another
like pick-up sticks
or the wonderful veins
on the burnished maple leaves
we tread upon
on the cold autumn ground.