Delinquent daughters.

Mothers, thank the Lord for your delinquent daughters,

Who went off and did what they shouldn't ought ta.

Who danced to a different drum

And followed the Moon and not the Sun.

Found themselves, silvered driftwood, on an empty shore

Still following that elusive star.

Whole, though scarred, and eyes too wise,

A hatful of dreams and no compromise.

They are the ones who flutter home

To a nest that's no longer lined with down,

But with silver gossamer

And two silvered heads ,one haloed white,

One speckled black,

Lean together in the slowly dimming light.

© Catherine Blackfeather