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You Number Our Days

You number our days, not we. You declare the end, Lord, As well as the beginning, And after three strikes, it’s over. No second chance; no “do over”! Got to get it right the first time around; No second chance to be found. Press on! Got to live it right out, Greeting each day with a welcome shout. (Nobody does it like I, Called by the Maker of the sky.) He made us to know what He does; No need to whine and put up a fuss. Each one has his own calling; By Him we keep from falling. Onward, then, to the bloody end. “Damn the torpedoes!  Full speed ahead!” So it was said by that navy man. Keep up the spirit; press on, my friend.

A.m., 7 July, 2021

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