When I grow old, really old,
I shall be eccentrik.
I shall wear long silken skirts
that sweep in the dust
and keep Abyssinian cats.
I shall speak clearly to the cats, of course,
but to other people I shall speak
only in symbols, codes and cryptograms,
and let them think
that they understand.
I shan't knit.
My garden will be wild and rich, and
I shall plant tall stones
in suitable places. I shall make
potions of flowers and light,
and I shall keep bees.
With my knobby old knees
and sagging breasts, I shall
dance naked under the Moon,
and I shall sing to Her
with the cats.
I shall carry a blackthorn stick,
and frighten small boys away from my apples —
they'll like that —
and I'll tell tales of the goddess
to small girls so they will know who they are.
I shall say outrageous true things
to people, and make waterfalls and small pools
in wild places.
I shall have a deep, deep well of silence
in myself, and it will fill
with the love flowing through me
like a wild underground river. My hair
will be very white and unmanageable —
rather like a dandelion. My roots
will grow to the heart
of the Earth, and the horned god
and the three-fold lady will be
personal friends of mine.