Old Folks Laugh

They have spent their
Content of simpering,
Holding their lips this
And that way, winding 
The lines between
Their brows. Old folks
Allow their bellies to jiggle like slow tambourines.
The hollers
Rise up and spill
Over any way they want.
When old folks laugh, they free the world.
They turn slowly, slyly knowing
The best and the worst
Of remembering.
Saliva glistens in
The corners of their mouths,
Their heads wobble
On brittle necks, but their lips
Are filled with memories.
When old folks laugh, they consider the promise
Of dear painless death, and generously 
Forgive life for happening of them.

Maya Angelou