Issue 16
Wing
Wilma Weant Dague
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Learning to Fly
Ruby stood against the fence, one foot on the rail, and focused on the red and yellow patch on the blackbird's wing. It was like the patch on her Daddy's uniform. He was gone now -- left her with Granddaddy for, "a while."
The bird was the most beautiful thing she had seen in a long time, but Granddaddy said that these birds were as common as trash. Common was what he had called her mama, when Daddy had brought Ruby to the country. She was supposed to be asleep -- they had driven a long ways in the night -- but she hid in the doorway. "Why you wanna go after that common thing for? Let her go."
"Pesky thieving villains," Granddaddy called the birds. Villains. She let the word roll over her tongue. It was bad, no doubt. Vile? Like Evil? Villain. But oh, that blood-colored wing.
~Wilma Weant Dague
Wilma Weant Dague lives in Kansas with her husband and three children. She
spends her "free" time reading, writing and watching the sky. Email.
© 2004 by Wilma Weant Dague. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2004 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.