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.
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