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
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