Pete’s perceptions,
Always weighty,
Will soon be more so
Now he’s eighty.



That forehead’s glow,
The nimbus’s gloss,
Give clear proof
Of gravitas.




This honored status
For him's a breeze….
Our Elder Statesman -
Our Eminence Grise.




He'll add, with Zeus,
And Wodin and Jove,
His pond'rous insights
To the gods' wisdom-trove.