Home
Back to Current Issue
Contributors

Carol C. Jackson

The Basket

She walks
These paths long set.

Eyes scan the way,
Steps do not falter.

Wind twirls fine graying hair
In knots and out again.

Her nose straight,
Cheekbones high and proud.

She carries an empty sacred basket
With both hands around.

She walks,
Seeking the very thing.

She stops,
Breathes deeply.

Is her direction true?
Should she turn?

She walks,
Hoping it finds her basket.