On our last day at the beach the sun came out, and the fog, which for that whole week had draped the shore in a veil of cotton, burned away: we discovered there was an ocean here, after all. It ... [+]
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."