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the word catching
a reflection of autumn’s embrace and the shimmer of dawn’s first light
worn smooth where it has been handled
fingers seeking the beads when no one is looking
its silver heart clasping the promise tight
The Winter Queen beads the word catchingThe Winter Queen stepped into the clearing with empty hands. There were no others brought out this time. The necklaces that once held the longer nights had already been spent, their beads dulled, their weight gone. This was the last one left. They placed it in her hands without a word. Even before she moved, you could feel it the stored cold, pressed deep into the beads, held through the long stretch of summer when the nights had grown too short for
