When I got to her earthen room,
I thought, Oh God, no. Not this one.
Too young, too fragile, for this word-
made-flesh deal you’ve got brewing.
I was still a vapor having my doubts,
when I saw her look up from her book
and stare at a tree outside her window.
Something brought a tear to her eye,
which she wiped dutifully away,
then smiled. Maybe she was thinking
of a shepherd boy she liked or what
was for supper. (Even in my etheric state,
I could smell something tasty
bubbling in her mother’s kitchen.)
Then, the look on her face told me
we had the right girl for the job.
All I had to do was materialize
and tell her the story.