You
are all fur and frolic.
You, with your makeup kits
And your Gucci,
Your Tiffany and silk,
Your merrywidows, treasure chest and culottes.
You are all pirouettes and arabesques.
Or,
in your denim,
Mending fences, faucets, broken bones,
Speaking dignity and courage to daughters and son.
Or,
in your pond, sylvan green,
Swimming somersaults, shark strokes—
Gliding free.
You
are mornings of fresh coffee,
Of running country roads,
Leaping fences, still ponds, land lizards.
Or, on your dulcimer,
You are lonely ballads before fireplaces
On winter nights.
With
your blonde hair blown back,
And your bright sox
And your V plunge jeans,
You are sunlight
And fresh laughter.
Or,
in your boots, riding regal—
Doing Iben struts
Over Harperland,
You share magic with
Neighbors, children, farmland,
Nature itself.
