Old lady sweeps her path, every day
In summer it’s dust, they’re making hay
In Spring there’s litter, her hand springs
“She must be bored.” but she sings
In winter there’s snow, her stiff broom!
“She must be simple.” well … she’s in tune
“She has nought to do” she’s busy; they aren’t
“She looks ancient” longevity’s art
“Bet she don’t work out!” today. This day!
“Or work with weights.” you don’t say
When hands are busy, the soul ain’t blind
And gems arise from the under-mind
Is nobody conscious? her heart is bold
The day she left us, it turned to gold