The wise woman sits in the shade
With stuffing peeping out from her chair,
Looking like a watercolour of the writer
In her wide-brimmed straw hat
And flower-laden dress,
While a black kitten plays
In her tossed aside straw bag.
Watching her through an open window,
With bees playing in the lavender bush
And spiders weaving their homes,
This is where she belongs
At the bottom of the garden
In full bloom.
First published in takahē 40 (2000)