A Spinner at Twilight

cold, foreign as the street scene does when one comes out of a movie theater, or as a doublebedfeelstoone sleepingalonewho is accustomed to a partner. The girls hugged Mimi and Laloo. "Thanks again for everything, dear ones," Amelia said. "We love the hats, and," she added, "we love you, too." She stood back. "We'd better go. Come on, Cissy." As they got part way down the walk that cut through the yard, Amelia called over her shoulder, "We'll be back for supper." Mimi and Laloo stood quietly in the front door, their arms around each other's waists. As they watched the young girls head up the sidewalk toward town, the space between them, the yard andits walk, appeared to yawn and stretch and bow like the time between them, the years between them, until it snapped and became a dark, gaping hole with no bottom. For long moments they stood, watching the girls go. Finally, Laloo tightened her grip around Mimi gently and asked, "But it's been good, hasn't it, dear? I mean, we've been lucky. We've always hadeach other, and it's been good." Mimi watched the girls until they turned the corner at Main Street. Then she looked at Laloo and back out at the yard. From withintheparlor, themantelclockchimed. "Yes," she saidatlast, "ofcourse. It's been good." The sisters looked deep into each others eyes and then out at the yard once more. "Of course," Mimi said again. "Of course." A Spinner at Twilight Walking backward from time's whirring spindle, She draws out twisting fibers shorn From backs of ewe and ram who succored and sustained her, Whose re-echoing bells lead her safe through stony wilds or thorny thicket And beckon ever to the dream-enchanted crests for a vision of what lies beyond; And from backs of lambs whose nuzzling noses seek out freshest wonder in each nibble of grass, Whose wandering feet find faith for the passage, Whose frolicking hoofs kick up infectious laughter, Whose bleating cries bespeak the soul's distress, Till she feels through care-worn fingers grown sensitive to each knotting or kinking The thread whereof the fabric will become complete. —Pauline B. Cheek ,/fi Xt A· ^¿1 a <*.*} â«' L-, -'¦ 73 ...