My Sister's Song
“I said to her, “My fingers are more used to knives than quills, and you are the singer in the family, not I.” Arite only smiled and hummed a little tune. I told her that she was the one who gave me the idea, so she has just as much right to tell of it as I. And she would tell it better. Arite shook her head and said that the story was mine to tell. She is old enough now for me to listen to her. Mind you, I won’t do it often.
I wasn’t born the elder for nothing. In this case my sister may be cor...rect (a grudging admission), the story should be told. But in truth, it was her song that started it all.
I was picking mushrooms from the mossy bank of the forest creek when I heard her singing. I was plucking them carefully, from the bottom of the stem so that they wouldn’t bruise. Those little gray wiggly capped mushrooms that hug the bases of the trees like children hiding their faces in their mother’s legs. The singing came, my sister’s voice, wound into the low vibrating burr of a bee Charmer.MoreLess
I wasn’t born the elder for nothing. In this case my sister may be cor...rect (a grudging admission), the story should be told. But in truth, it was her song that started it all.
I was picking mushrooms from the mossy bank of the forest creek when I heard her singing. I was plucking them carefully, from the bottom of the stem so that they wouldn’t bruise. Those little gray wiggly capped mushrooms that hug the bases of the trees like children hiding their faces in their mother’s legs. The singing came, my sister’s voice, wound into the low vibrating burr of a bee Charmer.MoreLess
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