Posted in Uncategorized, tagged miracle, poem, poetry, rumplestiltskin on November 29, 2013| 4 Comments »
Corrupt, of course,
what all of them did,
bartering with daughters,
promising too big,
expecting too much,
skipping out on the bill,
wanting more than they needed,
telling tall tales,
but there’s one thing I learned
about gold being spun
out of straw, though strange,
it can be done.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged beauty, daughter, mothering, poem, poetry, rumplestiltskin, value on May 7, 2013| 3 Comments »
All this must be spun tonight. —The Brothers Grimm
She does not care
that the gems
are not real.
She wears
the necklace
and feels beautiful.
She does not care
that the shoes
are not true glass slippers.
In the low angled sun
she slips across
the scuffed maple floors
and dances in clear plastic shoes
bought on sale at Target
to music that only she can hear.
She hums and twirls
in the dimming light.
She is not like
the miller’s daughter.
She knows how,
all by herself,
to spin what is useless
and cheap
into gold.