the morning crawls up
the mountain
as trees claw into her
from beneath
a grebe awakens
to her groans
and sings above her
a meremia sighs
and stretches its
petals
in a village hut
a woman
mother of two
peels potatoes for breakfast
and smiles
she loves these little things
in them she discovers
her worth
for last night
she was “just a woman”
