Member-only story
The Return of the Sun, From the Eyes of a Child
A poem about true fairy tales, to banish the night
We can’t go outside. It’s freezing out there,
my daughter says.
Spring? What is spring?
Winter is all she recalls.
Endless it felt
to all of us.
But especially to the young,
the winter is everything that’s ever been:
lost mittens, and shivery mornings
after the fire died in the night.
Waking from nap time
to a house shrouded in darkness,
and Orion’s belt, ready to spot.
I tell her tales,
fairy tales, she can only assume,
of long days to come,
where — fingers crossed —
the sun wakes before she does,
and she falls asleep with the sun still up:
The sun will be our constant companion.
The fruit trees will fill with flowers,
pink and white,
fluttering down,
as we dance with the wind.
We’ll swim in the estuary,
forage stinging nettles and lemon balm
from our yard,
for a tea party picnic,
with sugar snap…
