by Kyle Muntz
The Father was cutting wood in the yard. He'd been crying
for hours. A few times, the Sister came out,
and stood with her head tilted to the side.
She said, It's alright, life really isn't so bad, when you think about it,
and Don't worry, the winds are coming, the clouds are going away,
but he didn't say anything back. He was still crying.
She kneeled down, a few feet away, and wrapped her hands
around the neck of a bird. The bird folded into
itself. It made a soft noise, like paper shifting on
the wind. With careful motions,
she shut both of its eyes. It's alright, she whispered.
Everything is the same as it's always been. It won't get dark until you decide it will.
She walked away. There was still an imprint
of her body on the grass.