He read a poem
comparing mid-
life to standing
on a mountain
top and looking
on down the line,
except he is .77-
777777 to infinity
there and is still
having a bit of a
time seeing the
end-line. Might he
be myopic so
sublime or just
can’t see the
forest for the
trees, to name
few, maple, oak,
beech and
pine?