A Slow Spoon of a Woman

She was a slow spoon type of woman who did not rush Unhurried even if her kitchen curtains were in flamed We tried to get a rise out of her, but she never overreacted Amazing those of us who were experts at it. She was a quiet soul, a gentlewoman who understood things She spoke with the trees, the wind, the woodland creatures They enjoyed her enthusiastic meditative ways Her strength was apparent to them, and they flocked. She dressed simply, keeping her funds to herself We never knew how much she was worth in coinage But in the ways of the wise, she was priceless. Unhurried, yet commandingly confident and strong.