Before he retired –
aged sixty-two –
life was a meaningful
calling for her.

Not over-radical,
more gentle and
secular – but post-
suffrage.

Her children had
left the nest, and
the story of Esther
came to mind.

She writes poetry
and helps others
less fortunate than
she is.

He puts food on the
table, and she gives
meaning to the
marital vows.

She never wanted
to emulate Steinem
or Millett – maybe
Eleanor Roosevelt.

She neither wears
a bra nor burns one
– competition only a
four-syllable word.

A day in her life is
one hand on the soup
kettle, the other on
a protest sign.

One week a month
she volunteers
at a church shelter
for the homeless.

One day a week
she picks up the
mail for a neighbor
who is bed-ridden.

When night time
comes and she lies
in bed, he massages
her feet in silence.

She hasn’t retired –
never will – not in the
shadows of the night
nor morning’s shine.

© Lewis Bosworth, 9/16