The glow of the moon is poetry
The blossoming of flowers is poetry
The blossoming of woman is poetry
The glow of woman is poetry —
and even more so, because
the light comes from within.
women
Becoming
How many have made ourselves ugly from the burden of being beautiful? Made ourselves dumb because of the shame of
See me, hear me, I am fifty.
the world may see dried-up and irrelevant —
they may not even see me at all —
LOOK! i’ve re-blossomed with beautiful new petals —
strength, focus, perspective, poetry, silver wisdom —
i am roaring out all that i have held in,
taken on, and put up with — for all my life —
i roar for myself and for all women
i roar at the top of my lungs with all my midlife rage —
LISTEN! no longer can i do it all, nor do i want to —
i may be getting old, but also i am brand new —
Tending
Women blossom and re-blossom throughout their lives, thus in age making a beautifully garden’d reminiscence of many kinds of flowers.
Perimenopause
freed pubescent girl
finally crawls out of time
into middle age