Childhood Circle

Wise Old Women

Old women were wise when I was a boy.
They crafted childhoods from cookies and stories.
They knew the secrets of making jams
and building peace from compromises.
They knew where small boys went to play,
and when a silence threatened mischief.
They brought forth cakes from cranky ovens
and started fires with kindling and coal.
They chased my monsters out of my closet
and swept the ogres from under my bed.
The world was a decent and orderly place.
One by one the wise old women
laid down their baking pans and died.
The world wobbles in a warped orbit.

Next Poem:  "The Boy"

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Updated last on:  2001/05/23