This morning we picked up breakfast sandwiches and coffee and headed over to Savannah’s beautiful Bonaventure Cemetery for a forenoon (Isn’t that a cool word?) picnic.
Walking afterwards, we came across her …
“What’s going on here?” I quietly asked.
(I had to repeat my question several times before she answered me.)
I had to lean in to hear her.
“Angeling is hard work.”
I simply nodded and motioned for Robert to soundlessly move along.
NealEnJoy 
Neal, this is a beautiful poem. Thanks.
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Aww, Don. Thank you.
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Beautiful post, Neal!
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Thanks, Dawn.
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It’s a weeping Angel! DON’T BLINK! Back away slowly and don’t take your eyes off her until you are safely in the car. (If this reference means nothing to you, google “Dr. Who Weeping Angels”)
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Ha. It means nothing, so I will have to Google.
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Wait, Robert just told me! Oh gosh. I could have been in Big Trouble.
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Beautiful poem, Neal.
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Nice pic with a beautiful poem.
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