Cemeteries are full of whimsy
and hope.
and hope.
He is far too young.
As I snap his picture I wonder if angels are born or just magically appear.
If they are born, it means that angels ...
hmmm.
I love the look on her face.
It is the look that children get when they are absorbed by the story they are hearing.
I imagine that this angel is hearing the life story of the person upon whose tomb she rests.
Must have been a rip snorter of a life!
Must have been a rip snorter of a life!
Not quite old enough to guard the living or welcome the dead,
this child is engaged in tending the gardens.
He takes his new responsiblity very seriously
like a child in charge of cleaning the chalk board brushes at school.
A pre-teen!
Because of the impish little smile, I keep expecting one eye to pop open
as she checks to see whether her friends have their eyes closed too.
I was tempted to put an ipod in the ear of this angel before I took her picture.
She looks lost tin her music like any teenager.
Such a compassionate face.
She looks like the kind of girl a teacher would pick to take care of the new kid in the class.
I imagine this is the angel who greets new arrivals.
I hope she was on duty last week.
I hope she was on duty last week.
As I was leaving the cemetery today a butterfly landed in front of me.
A comforting symbol at the end of a sad week.
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