When she speaks

The world turns

With its head tilted

Leaning in closer to hear her words of deep fried wisdom

It seems to seek refuge in her story

Listens to tales of her hands that used to fold linens

And cradle promises to her chest

That now take dreams and silk-presses them into reality

Her lips twitch as a sliver spun tongue sits heavy in a mouth made for everything but silence

She curses after church stomping on the gravel stone driveway of her past mistakes

Taking time to thank God for His blessings

Gaping in drawn out aw as her hips swing

Vibing to the rhythm of her high cotton lifestyle

While wearing the rough robes of her great grandma

Her feet glide

She lives and breathes without hesitation or regret

Yanking the weight of the world off her coffee drawn skin

She grinds

She shakes

Shimmies, and spins

Moving so eyes never leave her

She draws in everything surrounding her