One morning a melody woke me, drifting in from the sliver of window above my head. A long-whistle trilled and skipped through a playful chorus. My soul rose up in answer.
There was a time,
A time rich with days,
Before sad and lonely songs were sung.
There was a day,
A day rich with time,
Before men fought and beetles stung
—Linette in The Deliverer by Sharon Hinck
