Her secretive scheme gave space to meet him
down by the old oak tree planted by the waters on east 92
married at 14
certain she knew the way  

Mrs. Can-Do wandered alone
with her sprouts from country to city
to county lane and back again
Planned moves by the blink of his eye
with no notice for her to bat an eyelid  

She traveled onward, barefoot,
on gravels and in snow to and fro
Pointed her compass north
without seeing journey’s end  

Love blinders, disappointment,
poverty, hardship, soul-grinding halts
busied her at stop after stop
year after year  

Late on her way, Thunderbolt Chief Doublehead seized
her Cherokee name,
“Knows the Way”
in lit spaces between ceremonial flames  

To outsiders, her destination
after so many moves— a mystery
but she
“Knows the Way”
made it there  

A real-life her-story
inscribed in her bones
returned to blessed assurance—
no secrets, no schemes, just a meeting
down by the tree of life planted by the waters
because she “Knows the Way”