Her Time

The older woman sat alone Underneath a breathtaking willow It appeared to be raining down around her Weeping, as it’s known to do Cloaking her in privacy Around her is an aura of brightness She is dressed simply Her gray hair is loosely pulled up She radiates a beauty Not typical of contemporary measures Her hands are sturdy They have seen hard times Prayed and wiped away tears They have felt sadness and love Hands that have held so many Expressed joy and pleasure Her hands are full of wisdom and memories As I watch, her fingers lightly touch the blades Offering her story through her touch She doesn’t see me This is her time I am unable to turn my gaze Feeling drawn to this woman Imagining her story Wishing to be a part of it Sharing in the beauty of her existence