by Cyn Bagley

Created on: October 29, 2009

Grandmother Moon Takes a Personal Interest

Grandmother Moon
shifts from maiden to crone
in endless variations.
She knocks on my door.

I hide, not wanting her wisdom
or her transformations.
I want to stay frozen in youth.

"Gray hair. Wrinkles.
Are they the price of wisdom?"

"Nothing stays the same," she says,
offering a napkin.

With light strokes she paints
laugh lines, jowls, and silver.
I accept her artistry.

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