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I have, for some time, believed that you are one of PostPoems' senior poets---senior not in number of years of membership (for what is a year but, simply, one planetary jaunt around the sun and back) but in the accomplishment of your Poetry.  This poem certainly fits in with that opinion of your work.  I believe you speak for many who are unable to speak for themselves; and you articulate emotional nuances---both good and bad, positive and negative---in ways that those for whom you speak can appropriate to explain to themselves their own emotional nuances, but in terms you provide for them.  Your Poetry is literate; timely (always of the now); and utterly necessary in the way it expresses those emotions for others---and gives them the comfort and certainty of hearing their own feelings expressed so well.  Some poets on this site write poems that belong in a museum; a few write poems that are so atrocious they deserve to be used to wrap fish or paper-train puppies; and a few Poets write the poems that nourish and sustain the soul . . . and you are in that particular group, as a nourisher and sustainer of souls for your readers.  If I had a hat on, I would tip my hat to you, Metaphorist, because you are one of the great ones on PostPoems.  But, in reality, I am just an old man half paralyzed in a lift chair while my body continues to sabatoge what is left of my life.  Still, from my chair I can applaud you in these words of sincere appreciation for your work.