What Her Mother Said

by Theodora Goss

Go, my child, through the forest

To your grandmother's house, in a glade

Where poppies with red mouths grow.

In this basket is an egg laid

Three days ago,

The three days our Lord lay sleeping,

Unspotted, from a white hen.

In this basket is also a skein,

Of wool, without stain,

Unspun. And a comb that the bees

Industriously filled

From the clover in the far pasture,

Unmown since the sun

Thawed it, last Spring.

If you can take it without breaking

Anything, I will give you

This ring.

Stay, child, and I'll give you this cap

To wear, so the forest creatures whose eyes

Blink from the undergrowth will be aware

That my love protects you. The creatures

Lurking beneath the trees,

Weasles and stoats and foxes, and worse

Than these.

And child, you must be wise

In the forest.

When the wolf finds you, remember:

Be courteous, but evasive. No answer

Is better than a foolish one.

If you stray from the path, know

That I strayed also. It is no great matter,

So long as you mark the signs:

Where moss grows on bark, where a robin

Builds her nest. The sun

Sailing west.

But do not stop to gather

The hawthorn flowers, nor yet

The red berries which so resemble

Coral beads. They are poisonous.

And do not stop to listen

To the reeds.

He must not be there first,

At your grandmother's house.

And when your grandmother serves you,

With a silver spoon, on a dish

Like a porcelain moon, Wolf Soup,

Remember to say your grace

Before you eat.

And know that I am pleased,

With you, my child.

But remember, when returning through the forest,

Kept warm against the night by a cloak

Of the wolf's pelt:

The hunter is also a wolf.