Her one hundred eighty-eighth birthday was on a Thursday. She didn’t feel like celebrating, but her mom loved parties. And it was “a lucky number, dear, we have to invite as many guests as we can to share the luck.” Yep, her mom knew exactly what to say when she wanted something.
Ezcra stretched a branch, shook off the night dust, collected on the midribs, and opened the first eye.
september light tendril through the letters of a wind vane
©Tzetzka Ilieva, 2016