Through the silk screen window
he sees her sitting under the morning sunshine.
He's not sure if she came from the stars or
if she will return into the water-
is she even real?
But what he really wants to know is why she's there...
There is nothing new about today to him,
to hands old and overworked.
Nothing new to him about the well worn path of branches fallen and sun dried leaves,
her footsteps are soft and will soon become a memory-
the skin on her soles tender from home.
He has seen the sun rise many days,
watched as the space in his backyard accumulated.
He resonates more with sunset now.
She is still trying to learn how to be that sunrise
and to shine like the glistening reflection of the light
on the warm gulf waters.
The smell of morning Earth is still new to her here,
an aroma he no longer notices flowing effortlessly through the backdoor.
The butterflies and wind carry the spirit of her Grandfather -
she has never felt him quite like this before.
With arms raised and eyes closed
she knows the only thing that feels right to do
in this moment is pray.
And now she knows,
she knows the waters and they know her,
she knows her angel is ever so close.
Yet he has absolutely no idea
that his photograph of her
sitting by the water
captures all of this.