Almost Forty
The birds were being so bizarre today,
we stood static and listened to them insane
in their winter shock of sweet gum and ash.
We swallow what we won’t say: Maybe
it’s a warning. Maybe they’re screaming
for us to take cover. Inside, your father
seems angry, and the soup’s grown cold
on the stove. I’ve never been someone
to wish for too much, but now I say,
I want to live a long time. You look up
from your work and nod. Yes, but
in good health. We turn up the stove
again and eat what we’ve made together,
each bite an ordinary weapon we wield
against the shrinking of mouths.
Notes
Ada Limón sits with the tender, ripening weight of middle age, turning time into a feast of presence rather than a tally of loss. It anchors August's theme, showing that the real banquet is learning to inhabit the skin we are in, that is, messy, alive, and fully present. By leaning into the sensory warmth of becoming, the poem reminds us that to feast is to claim the sweetness of our own arrival. . #poetry #forty #birthday #life #spirit