Do something.
They are everywhere.
Look:
Louise washing her wrinkled self
at the conference center sink,
naked and unashamed,
singing a hymn;
Elizabeth unafraid
to die in her house alone,
leaving the nasty nursing home
on the arm of her 90-year old attorney;
Hazel, Marion, Jean–
Three Graces, Weird Sisters–
dirty jokes about the curate,
roses from the old gay priest;
Bea by herself at dawn
along the lake,
hunting warblers,
fossils, walking fern;
Susan in her goatskin gloves
plucking nettles,
killing chickens
in their sleep.
Ann sharing her cane-stool
with the young ones
in Washington
just before the war.
Oh yes. I love this one.