She is an alien
In the extrinsic sense.
She doesn't belong.
She is a wonder,
Possibly the only one that's been
To the Triangle and back.
It would not be a surprise
If that's even where she's from.
People and I, we both think
Of who she could be.
Maybe a witch.
Maybe a source of power,
Able to control us with her
It's never clear with an initial meeting,
But you don't know what she's capable of.
Maybe she's an angel,
An exception to the gods,
Able to roam the world freely.
She may merely be a feather,
An insignificant pebble that
Barely contributes to the earth.
She's probably a sister to a crab
With her snappy mood and short temper.
I bet she lives in the sea
With the algae and the hippocampus.
She'll occasionally swim past a whale
Like a sea nymph,
Morphing into one with the ocean.
A silent whisper glides over the tides
But she can hear it miles under the surface.
She's sharp-eared like that.
When she cries,
Thunder roars and the clouds are black.
All water becomes murky
And marine animals grow doleful.
But the Ancient Greeks say: lo'!
She is but a girl!
With no powers of a god
And no ways of the wicked,
She is She and that is all.