There is a land

far off in the middle reaches

                                   of time

in which resides

The gray haired ladies.

They are governed

by gnarled fingers
Gentled but strengthened

through eons of lifting

                              burdens

In the dark gray days

                  they are alone

                  each within her dwelling

                  listening to her own heartbeat

                  speak it's secret name

Her cup of tea is her future

An hour at the hairdresser

                          creates a long and exciting

                                              day.

She stands at the bus stop

                   waiting

                   no place to sit

Her knees are weary

                   and wish to bend 

releaving the heavy load

                   of her frail body.

She watches the boys

                   whiz by on their

                   skateboards

An urge to join them

                           strengthens her

                                     momentarily.

Her body has rebelled

                           against her independence

                           her spirit of mind.

The lady in green with

                                 the flowered umbrella

                                 speaks to her in a

                                 high-pitched voice

                                 "Are we tired of waiting?"

The old lady says

                  "I am going to the

                    beauty parlor. Its a

                    long trip for me."

Ha, she thinks, four blocks

                    down the road, foreign

                    territory, big adventure.

                    Hope the natives are kind.

"Oh! We're  going to get

all pretty for the new year

are we? How nice," the

lady in green coos.

                                         A woman in a pea coat

                                         and a Greek fisherman's cap

                                         gives her an irritated

                                         glance.

You - lady in green - with

     your silver, silly, pompous

     hair - how dare you

     be so fucking condescending?

How dare you?

     Don't you realize there is

     a strong and intelligent

     woman - a youth of

     great beauty and worth

     inside this old lady?

Don't you see her in those eyes that sparkle

     and look at you so

     quizzically?

Don't you understand that she

     is setting out on

                       a great quest?

A search for adventure

                       and knowledge?

Her spirit will award

her the holy grail. . .

Her joy will give

her peace

In the orange evening

the old ladies return

                     to their land

They quiz one another

on the adventure of the day

And gasp at the strength

                     discovered

within the souls

of their fragile bones.

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