Wednesday, July 18, 2007


by Ari Collins

Remembering tiny Jack’s fir-tree eyes, I took turns with my husband watching Hope sleep, always on her back. One night, two shadows with scarlet eyes leaned over her crib. Frozen in my chair, I glimpsed another shadow, far shorter, reaching in. As it turned to leave, cradling Hope’s soul, two green eyes met mine.

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