Days still come when I rebel,
pig out on m&m’s and caramel,
pull on jeans, sneakers, a sweatshirt,
revert to being an introvert.
Some days I want to cartwheel down the street,
fly to Nantucket for a week,
buy silk lingerie and luxury wear,
a long, black leather coat, dye my hair.
There are days I feel an attitude -
pompous people’s words intrude.
I hear know-it-all superiority,
so I revel in being crochety.
I thought I’d want to sit in silk,
raise money for charity with so-called ilk,
have my fingers sparkle with jewels,
instead I participate in renewals.
I do yoga, tai chi, and eat yogurt,
walk alongside the road in the dirt,
drink green tea, find that I shun
people who criticize everyone.
I notice the other women my age.
We observe each other. We can gauge,
how each other is feeling that day,
gracious, settled, or somewhat outre’.
My grandmothers looked tres distingue’,
I wonder if sometimes they felt this way.