Glenn Currier

Heart of a Woman            Print this poem only

 

Slender and humble in its youth

the oak grew in moist earth near the bayou.

Roots pierced the dark land

ate the rich gumbo

silently morphed facets of soil

into a heart

with unexposed power and poise.

 

Across the bayou

on a screened porch

a young girl watched the new rain

make puffs of dust in the dirt

she daydreamed in the drifts of clouds

and wondered where they were born.

 

A young man and his friend

off the beaten path of their travels

found the town pool.

Swimming, he saw the beautiful girl

perched above the deep end

and across longitudes and latitudes

of loving, laughing, and weeping

they birthed and raised a family.

 

The bark’s ridges and gaps reveal

centuries of storms and floods

the oak’s long limbs laden

with life, wisdom, and altered environments.

 

These two entwined lives enriched

by learning and prodigious practice

their wine a vintage

of passionate enchantment

imbibed by thirsty learners

across decades beyond ordinary borders.

 

But she like the oak

with open arms

her strength born in good soil.

Hers is a rare power of gentle love

hers a courage born

of some cosmic connection

at the heart of her beautiful humanity.

 

Dedicated to my cousin Melanie on her eightieth birthday. Both of us born in the Durand line in southern Louisiana not too far from the Evangeline Oak with lives seemingly divergent but somehow parallel and ultimately connected, I think, by a power greater than ourselves.

 

Written 2-7-23