The Tale of the Wendy- Bird

Long ago, a maiden loved a boy who flew with shadows.

He carried her past rooftops and moonlight,

to a land where mermaids sang in hidden lagoons,

where fairies glimmered like sparks of flame,

and children laughed among the stars.

There she wished to stay forever but the boy only promised he would return for her in Spring.

He did not say which Spring,

nor how many winters she would wait.

So she kept her vigil on the window seat.

She watched the leaves turn and fall,

the snow drift and melt, the flowers bloom and fade.

Spring after Spring passed her by, and still he did not come

until she learned the ancient truth:

the promises of boys are woven of thistledown,

while the hopes of girls are stitched in oak.

One night, many years later, as she slept, the boy returned.

But not for her. He came for her daughter.

And when she saw the empty bed, she knew at once

that the child who returned would be no longer a child of earth,

but touched forever by sky.

So it was through generations.

The daughter and granddaughter of the Wendy-bird

stood watch at the window, and they too answered the call to fly.

Each left behind the next a warning:

Love may break the heart that holds it,

but memories, like wings, are worth the pain.

At last, the girl grew very old.

She sat alone in her rocker, beside the bow-window seat

where lace curtains fluttered in the breeze.

Then, as if the years had been no more than a dream,

the latch lifted, the window flew open

and there stood the boy, unchanged by time,

with his hand held out.

Her shadow rose and began to dance,

and with a smile she had been saving

she placed her hand in his,

and the Wendy-bird felt her heart leap as it had long ago.

Together they flew away

past the billowing curtains,

past the rooftops and clouds,

toward the place he had promised her long ago:

"the first star to the left,

and straight on until morning."