Mama Day
The night is so thick she can tell she is there only by the scraping of her feet and the tap, tapping of the stick in the loose gravel. A moonless night with only the call of the katydids and marsh frogs. A night to swallow you up, the stars hid by clouds, and memory guiding her tired feet home.
Gloria Naylor • Mama Day
Time don’t crawl and time don’t fly; time is still. You do with it what you want: roll it up, stretch it out, or here we just let it lie.