amanda

by alice marston sternwall amanda was a solemn child - her nurse oft found her wandering barefoot in the fields sad victim of an ancient family curse against which truth and beauty were no shield such times with farm folk would amanda speak and quest them on the symbols in the skies and though her speech was most exceeding meek no comprehension glowed in her pale eyes the nurse, a hawkfaced old frenchwoman stern with little patience and less charity to no avail could make amanda learn that naught was gained by talking to the trees the trees, the rocks, the running streams, the clouds were all recipients of amanda’s words although they never answered her aloud unlike her truest, dearest friends - the birds anon upon a rock the old dame sat and left amanda to her babbling cries the verdant meadow spread its welcome mat a hive of life whose buzzing never dies all unrecorded went amanda’s dreams vanished like dew upon the sun warmed grass like bubbles in the slow meandering streams like sunbeams in the long days as they pass