She tiptoes to the garden on cricket nights to visit beings busy in the grass and sycamore and willows, hidden except for a swoosh, or chortle, or pounce and small scream. This night, she settles herself on a stone in shadows, watches moonlight tremble through leaves, breathes moss and larkspur and clover. Her fingers play with the hem of her nightie, and she shivers. Soon, she hears the wind chime cadence of fairies dancing. The moon wends a wildflower path to a clearing, but the sounds drift ahead, out of reach. She fears she’ll be lost and returns to her stone in the garden. Inside her house are loud voices and sobs and the sound of something falling down stairs. But she hears only the tinkling fairies. She knows someday they’ll find her and bring her to another garden where another girl sitting on a stone will hold her hand.
Sarah Russell’s poetry and fiction have been published in Kentucky Review, Poppy Road Review, Misfit Magazine, Rusty Truck, Third Wednesday, and many other journals and anthologies. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee. She has two poetry collections published by Kelsay Books, I lost summer somewhere and Today and Other Seasons. She blogs at SarahRussellPoetry.net.