Sitting Waiting Wishing

She sits, with angelic aura. Her knowing eyes pierce imaginations, compel us, in awe, We stand and stare, at a woman we Do not understand. Reassuring the World with her motherly smile, While crimped brown hair caresses The periphery of her pinnacle. Her velvety skin absorbing sapient Beauty from the surrounding mountains, She seems content, but not at rest, Her arms folded, her dress is black. Waiting for the painter, to finish his work, Waiting for her god to give back what he took, Living life for a reason to live, in this Uncouth world, she is temporarily here Like the sun in Scotland, she knows, and Can’t decide what to feel. The deed is done, she stands And stretches, scratches her itches. Pockets the money. Work to do. The mountains and streams carried Into the distance. Cattle and voices The only ones waiting. She expels a sigh, And shuffles back to her cottage. "Mona" bellows a man from Inside her cottage.