©2023 Mel Reynes do not re-publish without permission
In the center of my greenhouse is a stone.
The stone is pale in the sunlight. An unremarkable hunk of quartz.
At night, it begins to moan.
The first night, I thought it was a child, lost in the dark countryside. I rushed out in my dressing gown to rescue the helpless thing.
The second night it was a man, his waling echoed off the glass.
The third night it was a young woman, full of woe, with a melody of her lament matched my beating heart.
Now it has been twenty eight days and it has begun to laugh.