Always the same,
Looking into spaces and crevices
Where no one ever looked before,
Finding what she wants,
Finding what she needs,
To ponder, to imagine,
To create a thing uniquely and utterly her own,
That can only be eclipsed by her.
Mocking, scolding, laughing,
Always gathering in clusters and whispering,
"Why doesn't she ask for more?"
"More-More-More," they repeat,
While they grow old slowly, then quickly.
Wild, wiry strands of silver and white angrily
Pushing out from under extravagant bonnets
Shielded by parasols to hide them from the sun
That hides from them, shinning only on her
When she is alone or in a crowd,
While she continues to search, explore, and
Find what she wants,
Find what she needs,
To push back against THE INVISIBLE
Each anxious dawn to travel beyond WHAT IS,
Always looking, searching, growing---
No need to ask for more.
Copyright © Beverly Crespo