Something to Celebrate

After W S Merwin

by Stephen Keeler

I have never yet been woken
alone and in a light-filled room
with yellow curtains

by the sound of falling plums
or that of pigeons dead and dropping
from their branches into uncut grass

also to be found
by suntanned children
stomping through the afternoon with canes

I have not yet died
although for sixty years and more
I’ve annually survived

the date on which I will
not thinking that it might be
something to celebrate.