She was
a little woman,
not really built for this;
and the secret is she
really didn’t mind.
After all, the rear
seats were firm
much better
on a back
sore from
all her sewing.
But that day,
her hands ached,
her ankles swollen,
and the back of that bus
looked so far away.
So when that ole’ boy
said, “Move, ”
she reached over
and opened the window,
gave a holler that scared
a murder of crows
off the branches of
a long leaf pine—
funny thing is,
them black crows
never came back again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A fine tribute to an exceptional woman. Rosa Parks was herself a poem that will be read and remembered for a long time to come.. Sandra Fowler