When I am an Old Woman
I shall wear jeans
With the sweatshirt I wore to every exam
From the year I turned seventeen
I shall stay up late with the cats
That I bred, fed, delivered
And made citizens of this small world
I shall get up early to feed
The chicks and chickens I have kept
In defiance of the past
And I shall rub the neck of the old male donkey
Who guards the turkeys and the guinea fowl
I shall make my way, as always, to the place
I love most
To that warm heavy hay-scented barn,
To the leather-smelling tack room where the feral queen
Jealously guards her kittens
I shall gather a bridle from the wall
Rendezvous with my darling
Who doesn’t mind
We dance through the door, kiss the wind
And depart on a breath before sundown
Through the trees we glide like the ghosts we are
Crest the rise, watch the sun die
And slowly return
Like the ghosts we are
When I am an old woman
I shall wear jeans
And my darling won’t mind
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The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated. - Ghandi
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