See how her hair has thinned: it does not seem /
like hair at all, but like the airy moult /
of emus who outraced the wind and left /
soft plumage in their wake. See how her eyes /
are gentler now; see how each wrinkle laughs, /
and deepens on itself, as though mirth took /
some comfort there and burrowed deeply in, /
outlasting winter. See how very thin /
her features are--that time has made more spare, /
so that each bone shows, elegant and rare. /
For loveliness remains in her grave eyes, /
and courage in her still-delighted looks: /
each face presented like a picture books. /
Bemused, she blows us undismayed goodbyes. /
Originally published by Writers Digest--The Years Best Writing 2003
