I have six sisters, and I'm the youngest one,
and one day we were all standing outside,
and we were, well, we were at a funeral.
And we were all dressed in dark colors,
and I looked at us from the side--
from the side, and the wind was flapping our skirts around,
and it made me think of how we were like birds
getting ready to take off.
And so I wrote this.
This is called "A Sister's Dream."
"Flying, the seven of us taking turns,
gliding along against pale blue cloudless skies.
Sisters making sewing motions around, above, under.
So smooth and easy in weightlessness
above mother's watchful eye.
Growing for us pinion, sage, and choke cherries.
The seven of us flying along asphalt highways
laughing contagious, celebrating our friendship and love
toward our mother awaiting our arrival
with open, expansive, sheltering wings."