Ladies of
a Certain Age,
girls no
more
except in
the heart:
What Life
has given,
you have
taken
despite
the dreams you had,
intentions
and resistance:
Age
acquiring resilience
for
survival's sake
when life
is hard
or dull
beyond endurance.
Power's in
the circle
around the
cafe table
every
morning every day
except
Sundays maybe:
Ladies,
older, aging
socialize
despite
because of
Life;
finding,
making,
sharing,
building power
'round
this table
this
gathering of resilience
endurance,
amusement--
Even, some
days, joy!
The Pert
Young Thing,
trailing
young good-looking Fella--
full of
certainty, resolve,
and
years-to-come--
prances
past
in her
low-cut denims,
bouncing
perm of wild curls...
Spares not
a glance
towards
the Ladies of A Certain Age.
Her dreams
her angers
her
determination
not yet
tested, not yet tried
nor
slapped around by Life--
as long as
Fella's true
and things
continue
looking
up.
The Ladies
come and go;
Pull in
the extra chair as needed.
The
conversation does not lag--
not often,
anyway, does
the stream
of interaction fail,
fall into
gaps of
pensive
individuality
for just
an instant,
before the
shield of gossip,
cheery
news, and practicalities--
Solidarity--
asserts
itself again.
There is
no evil spoken
at this
early hour
over
coffee, cream,
the solace
of bacon and
well-buttered
toast,
oatmeal
with raisins...
No, in the
morning
hope and
cheer
and
charity prevail.
The Ladies
of a Certain Age
observe
the Pert Young Thing--
They may
judge or not
but do not
doubt
her chair
is waiting.
2009
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