The Indigo Girls did not know
who Joan Baez was
a loam cried out
as first frost silenced the land
likening dawn
etched empty branches
she sang with an old voice
much used
like firewood
is best when properly dried
her voice was a voice of a woman
who had walked many years unseen
for after a certain age they say
women become invisible
she decided this was a wonderful way
her wings could remain outstretched
and not hidden as before
when she was sculpted and honed
like a cold statue
men would seek to touch
now her magic felt like a velvet glove
able to touch the mist and curling into a fist
summon spirits to her world
beyond the quarter-hour
no more obliged to purse
for onlooker
TheFeatheredSleep 