Wendy at 45
Wendy's right foot stretches out and lets
tilts on its heel, waggles a toe. Her toes
are on holiday now, children set free
to bask in the gaze of the sculptor
who dances and sings the grand rounds of
Wendy basks in the laughter of children
at play, invisible children who climb and fall down
on the mounds and mounds, the mountains of
her. They snuggle up into her teddy bear warmth,
hang on the limbs and the lap of her story,
and leap down again to dance all around her.
They are drawn without knowing
to her great goddess shape, this full
fertile figure our ancestors sculpted
in honor and worship and praise.