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The Crone by Jo Stewart

I have known old women and old men too

One old woman I know carries a young woman in her bones

Many old men long to resurrect their youth

This old woman is like the wind

she is the reason the lake stirs

plentiful are her children in the four corners

her caring like rain nourishes even weeds


Her neighbors do not suspect such vitality

She looks irrelevant, a kindly

old soul who needs help with her groceries

Her magic — manifests when they’re not looking

she does not hide  

giving and getting is all the same for her

I dread her loss, but she may never die.



This poem was published by Front Porch Review, August 2009 


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