When Cherubs Sway

From a quaint chalet, one young mother breaks into solace glancing at doves wheel across a teal skyscape. Like intermittent flashes, her lucid memory recounts the giggles of her son rising near a hill... a pleasant outburst for a boy wagging and tugging his paper kite. Mid-autumn is a season of murky trails on pastoral ledges. As sunset dips its crown, a loud holler bangs among slime of marbles. The woman’s vision smears... feet race with an icy wind. ‘My child, my child!’, she fumbles. Down the curve lies her offspring trapped under rubbles, motionless. The kite, nowhere to be found... until cherub birds sway low wrapping youngster in gold light-- bleak autumn defied 8/2/2019 Angels Danced Contest of Lu Loo