A silky warm scent coats the air.
Soft layered rose tutus push
their blush pale skirts
to float
...
[+]
of wax, leather, eagle feathers, but of
paper, ribbon, glue and glitter. Her
daughter flaps her arms and
pretends to be bird, fairy,
angel. She keeps
dancing. Her
mother says,
"Stand still," as she
combs out plaits, strokes
hair into shape, clips on stars,
a halo, thinks of magic. She looks
at her daughter's sprung feet, says, "Fly,
sweetheart. Then walk, strong on the earth."