Scales on the window sill.
An antique, a decoration,
of why you do not use them any longer,
of how age has taught you
the more you live,
the less exactness matters.
About the poem
I am what my kids call and “ish” guy. Things, time, expectations are always more “ish” than definite and precise. I find it serves me well, whether cooking, getting places, or loving people.
The title is a play on words. I like doing that.