Psalm Of The Old Woman Poem by Sheena Blackhall

I dose and dream of cornflowers, daisied air
I've long renounced Ambition's slippery stair

I have discarded pride in my December
I blow on Past's forgotten Springtime ember

I whisper to my children, ‘Don't be preening
Look for the deeper truths in life and meaning'

I listen to the owl, am reconciled
To creatures meek and cruel, tame and wild

I am at times by a great breeze possessed
That shakes my branches, mutters ‘Soon comes rest'

I walk through Summer where the world is hatching
At night, the dead rise up, at my door scratching