Patterns
of silvery star-like things were known to weave in front of Sara’s eyes.
She
knew, very well, the truth of what she saw.But it was not that she saw them, but rather when.For it was when she saw the patterned
stars that for the briefest moment, she knew something of truth. The
first time they came was when Sara happened upon a wounded swallow in aching,
gasping, agony.Sara did not know the
cause of the bird’s pain, but as she bent over and saw the bird slip away into
death, there were the silver patterns, winding small about the feathered creature and
Sara thought, as their glow faded, that perhaps they carried with it the bird’s
soul. Another
time, under a full summer’s moon, she and a lover took an evening stroll.What had begun as a walk, quickly become a
dance, joyous and exuberant and filled with child-glee.Then, too, the patterned silver had come, and wrapped
around the pair in shiny glistening abundance, and filled her heart with joy. Still
once more they had come, on a day …