My knees bend
Almost as much as ever
And ache very little

My bedroom becomes a poetry hide-out
Muting Mom’s
Ever louder TV

And then there is that small gummy
With its even smaller quantity of THC

I don’t like intercessory prayer
But I have at times asked God for favors

Please let my husband live
Please let my daughter’s twins live
Please ease Betty’s dementia
Please let marijuana be legal by the time I retire

Wouldn’t you know
It was that last one
The Sovereign God of All Eternity
Chose to answer OK.