Aah the writing life

I spent last weekend at a writing workshop with 16 other woman and one man. It was close to home yet it felt like I really was away from it all. We heard lectures on the craft, examined some poems, wrote a little new stuff, and got wonderful, in-depth critiques on a poem each of us brought in. I've revised the poem I brought in for critique (I think it's much tighter now), and I plan to submit it to the over 60 women's anthology. Here it is:

Ode to Old Women Walking

The women walk
arm in arm
supporting each other
on the cobble-stoned streets.
Squat, stout with veiny legs
and thick ankles,
they wear flat sandals,
showing jagged toenails,
or wide oxfords and thick hose.
Some walk slowly
clutching their partner’s arms
for balance.
Their hair is short and bleached,
perfectly coifed.
Their suits have skirts
always below their knees.
As they walk they talk
almost in whispers
solving the world’s problems
or deciding what they’ll cook for dinner.
Wearing their age
simply, elegantly
they are our muses.
Rejoicing in each other’s company,
they walk together every day
as we follow closely behind.