What if there was another girl
To whom the angel did not come,
One who said, every day, “I am ready.”
She woke, she dressed, she went to the well
to draw water.

Still no flutter of wings
No gifts delivered in the dark.
No sudden lights.
Just ordinary grit and labor.

She knew the stories—Samuel, Miriam.
The power of, “Here I am.”
She wiped sleep from her eyes.
Readied the day. Waited.