To the Island...

Waking early on a windy morning I left my quarters at the inn and made my way on foot to the jetty where the ferrywomen waited. I thought I saw a man there, too, but it must have been my imagination. The wind blew at my hair and clothes, and I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders.



On the ferry the ride was rough, but the women were unperturbed, as I expected them to be. I didn't see the man again, and knew it was a trick of the light. The light grew brighter in the distance, as I saw in my mind the territory of the White Owl. The women invited no conversation, only expertly negotiated the wild waters, singing in minor keys to the wind.

copyright Monika Roleff 2005.