The Fountain

For the healing there needs to be discipline.

The daily lemon drink.

The herbs that coat and love her from the inside.

The food that nourishes.

This preparing for the mighty crone to move in.

These years of saying goodbye to youth.

Even so, she feels young most of the time.

She knows a vitality in her bones

to bring her into white hair with lust still strong.

Somehow she knows she will always

fall in love with someone or something.

There will always be that something

she can drink or eat to feed her burgeoning immortality.

Today, tiny cobalt birds dance and scatter

like a shimmering, living fountain

before the wheels of her slow moving car.

Today, this road to awe reveals the way

to the great tree whose white blood

sprouts flowers inside her.

When she opens her mouth

she speaks in petals.