
Like many poems I write, this one started with a rhythm. I suppose you could say it is the rhythm of life, as girls grow up into womanhood and beyond. I hope that girls out there, whatever their current stage of life, and whatever their choices have been, will enjoy this bucolic poem, set in a simpler, but no less menacing time.
Thanks for coming by to read!
Once, just a wisp
Of maid, I danced
On breezy meadows,
Lads entranced,
And picked the flowers
Of circumstance.
A wisp of a maid
In the barnyard laid,
To become a farmer’s wife.
I made my mince pies
One at a time,
One at a time,
On a farmer’s dime.
One at a time
I drew the line,
And split the loaf
With greasy twine,
And then, my bread I’d bake.
And lie in the bed I’d make.
And soon the children,
Two by two,
Stuffed my stomach
And stubbornly grew,
And gathering herbs
For my potion’s brew,
With a wink and a shove,
Through my garden flew,
And out the garden gate.
Now, what will I do
As my hair turns blue,
And the torch approaches
Two by two,
And the cockatrice
Crows a solemn coup,
As they lay the thirsty stakes,
And I count out my mistakes,
And I feel my muscle aches,
And the moments left
Are a frenzy of fear–
Worse than you’d ever
Imagine, my dear.
For the Lord, he gives.
And takes.
Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew
To read about earth mothers in our homeschooling experience, read A Tribute to Earth Mothers.
For a nostalgic look at the value of friends, especially in the setting of disability, read One is Silver.
I like this very much! It has a traditional folktale feel to it.
Sorry this got caught in my spam folder. So glad you liked this blast from the past.