What Worth

I didn’t run a marathon

Nor climb El Capitan

That doesn’t make me a nothing

Nor any less a man

I’ve walked untold distances

The burden my muscles know

I feel it in my sinews

In my knees and in each toe

It shrieks up both my shins

And splinters through each knee

I feel it in my buttocks

Good Lord what’s ailing me?

Ah, but what reward awaits

From all of this dissension?

The fruits of labor are plain to see

In each turn, stretch, and tension

Calves spring like taut coils

A miracle to behold

A sight unseen for many years

Like the Marching form of old

In short (too late) I feel a swell of pride

Within my very breast

For now I strive to show the world

I give my utter best.