Voices on the Wind
by Kathy Lohrum Cotton
Lined up. Evenly spaced.
Thatís how a paper basket
assembled with white paste
should be. How the one fashioned
by my first-grade hands was not.
And once a hot tear touched it,
the stained construction was less perfect,
the tears less containable.
I told my teacher I was sick.
She called for my brother
who left his sixth-grade class
to walk me home,
my steps quick against his long stride,
my narrow shoulders bobbing
beside his narrow waist.
I never mentioned the basket.
Never abandoned my delight in the beauty
of things aligned and properly spaced.
Never stopped loving my big brother,
so tall, so nearly perfect.