SortingOctober 6, 2010
Under the waned moon, she sorted small stones and buttons, setting them in piles on the ground in front of her. They disappeared into the gloom of the grass, but she trusted they would reappear by morning. The night above her sparkled like faith, and the wind skirted where she sat.
Though it was no longer summer, she saw fireflies in the trees. Though it was no longer summer, she heard someone talking through a far away open window. She emptied her hands, stone by stone, button by button, making way for the season to come.