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Show STORM WARNINGS: CHILDHOOD MEMORIES, FOR MY SISTER I That August afternoon, under the slow shift of the sun, we were children chasing each other across a dry meadow far from the safety of our uncle's farm. I hid among t a l l stalks along the river listening to the call of my name over the steady stroke of wind, and watched the threads of water twist through the small stones, buttons of rust which s i f t the snow-melt all summer. Settled in my stall of leaves I waited, knowing you'd follow and find me, but you walked away and did not notice the t r a i l of broken weed-blades I'd left. II In the morning vie woke early to watch the sun show itself on the eastern end of that flat landscape, hoping to witness the grand beginning of everything. We saw a grain silo in the distance rising up over the open meadows like the beacon which would recede into the ocean horizon each night beyond the south shore of our own home, all but its red warning-light dissolving |
