At ninety, life is  dream,
That it may have flowed,
How Ashberry has been.

You named green river’s
Flow in rock as a dream.
A boy saw your 68 as 90.

Rock is  million year old
With  river flowing in it.
68 might have been a 90.

You have death to dream.
At sixty eight ,you dream
The same as when ninety.

(Poet Ashberry turns ninety)