Where are the bones to rattle? When the wind moves it may find only these trinkets we used for cheering the spectacle of the hour. C’mon, the saying went, lighten up, and we waved the shining tendrils of metallic-plated streamers at the end of plastic sticks to make our own wind. It did not cool us in the end. No one could stop to say it, but there were moments when those ribbons caught a light like something you might put out to bring a body home.
Those bones. That sound.
Wonderful imagery here, Stacey. So much left open to interpretation, which is why I enjoy your writing so much — I can tell myself about a half-dozen stories without effort for the gift you’ve given, more stories are just around the corner if I try.
Thanks, and have a great Sunday.
Thank you so much for this, Michael. Wishing you a wonderful Sunday : )