An elder accepts
(her years accelerating)
a real desert is fatal
while she translates bold robin's song
and moves to scatter crumbs.
She long suspected
knowledge accumulated
doesn't amount to wisdom,
it's her loving ways that guide others
but others have the feet
and walk where old mineshafts lurk.
You could swear you hear a bell
she hears it too and calms you
as the first stars peep from the glooming
she weaves a simple lullaby
from proven age-old threads.
You'll be the judge of that
when you wake up.