Aunt Giovanna, At 80 Poem by Gary Corseri

Her mind is no less than the autumn light
upon the heirlooms that arrange her home
upon the hill that overlooks the sea.
Like polished silver in the peace of night
that warms us with the full moon's calm,
she has enriched her memory
by constant questioning- and being free.
Only such a one is bound to keep
the soared songs of our common lot assayed,
and chart us to our end by being brave.
She is the balancer who cannot reap
the harvest of our best, unless it's played
upon the anthems of our dawn- nor save
a stitch in time, unless we move towards love.