Genesis 18

Genesis 21.7 "Who would have said to Abraham, That Sarah would suckle chldren! Yet i have borne a son in his old age."

Sarah laughed, as she sometimes did,
at such a silly proposition.
Far less that she should have a son
than that her husband,
now shriveled and old,
should be able to rise
to this occasion,
even less he should make an emission
that could hit an internal star.
No, now his bones that poked through
in places in jagged ridges
dry and brown with sun.
His flesh hung from his shoulders,
pulled down to the ground
in paper thin rolls that pooled
in the belly and over his hips
All hung down, lower than in
youth, lower than in his prime,
low as though crying out to
return to the dust from whence it came.
Sarah could only laugh
that this shuffle footed man with
Arabic black eyes and white
brows that met his white beard,
that stood on the roadway,
cane in hand, forgetting
he had taken three steps before
and three more to go,
would feel the sap of spring
and rise like the buds,
bursting open
one last time.