Bunch of old coots
Going snipe hunting
Planning gripe bunting
True to form
Ancient and warm
Radiates to thought
Signals on skin
Can it be sin
Sensual heat
Bare to greet
Late April day
To fondly say
When old, be bold
Treasure sunlight's gold
Beaming down above
God's love
Nature rules
Life schools
Those ready
In steady
As the ticking of the clock
Count the days left on the block
Think freedom's when it's the end
To go to love and him
Other old coots
Shuffling scoots
Now gone
Run around heaven upon
Sturdy legs
Love begs
Faithfulness done
Heaven won.