It is magic that waits to be noticed and yes, it is to those who look for it that magic comes. This story was given up for 'lost' and yet was found when the magic visited the doused case of words crafted in a box. 'Found' again, the story lives and it is to SHE WHO CREATES I send 'magic of the sort that suits your aches.' Thank you, JT! Live on with story ...
The twin babes broke shells hungry for their future. Tusi had just returned from a spin along the full edge of the Lake. “I hope you’re packed with edibles dear heart,” Shelela smiled to her mate perched deftly on the mud latticed roof of their home. “They are here, and they are hungry!” Two perfect Wood Crafters with head, face, feathers and grace blinked into the soft light of the late spring afternoon. The new breed of Wood Crafters, Swallows to be sure was a version of my self and my sister with an unmistakable variation found in their tail feathers. Split they are into an aerodynamically perfect “V.”
Oh but hold still a moment, before moving into the vision of our new-bies let me re-wind a bit to lay the cedar plate for your sweet tastings. Even now as I bend forward to peck at the story well on its way into the future of your grand planet Earth it is in the recall of the past deeds that makes the present. As this tale breathes into a life of future times the magical connections warrant refreshment. Do you recall the silver ring with stone of pink first glimpsed in a story of the fore? Yes, it was that same ring that split between the grand Grey pair Shemaladia of Osprey and Freeill Noa of the South that birthed twins like none before. My own dear sister and I were the first born from the promise of reckoning the smallness of beings. Shelela and your own dear story teller were the Wood Crafters first lineage of Swallows. In our fashion we have paid well the attending of grace for the littlest of details and the finest of reserved nature. Nuance and peculiarities have been my particular favorites. It pays to have such grace when it is remembering the story that is your kuleana your responsibility. My twin sister has nurtured the love of small shiny things, some as minute as grains of sand others as grand as gold specks in the eyes of a wandering witch.
Now back to the nestlings. These two wee babes were graced with the power of projection. Their voices as well as their vision were big and their futures capable of sudden leaps. Tusi pretended to be bowled over with the calls, “Me, me, me … chew me Pa, chew me Pa.” Prepared he was, Tusi hopped to a space between his new babes and regurgitated the flies, mosquitoes and no-see-ems into the eager opened beaks. The first family meal was an occasion. Though parents may watch and recall from their own warming the do’s and how’s of this and that, it is only in the doing that the thing becomes your own. Tusi and Shelela were new to this and they were delightfully over-come with the impatient hungry babies and grateful to Long Eyes and Paddleton for building their home so generously sized. The tiny windows, like port holes in a trustworthy ship were not large enough for a brand new swallow to fall through. Yet they allowed the grandness and sweet swell of the Lake air to fill the nest with the nectar of this place. They would need to be familiar with that smell, very familiar with that smell in deed.
The twin swallows were a male and female. Their names had been prescribed as was fitting for the young swallows carried a legacy of oldness in their coils. The girl was called Toma and the boy Soma. To honor the now ancient Somaia of the South and his first love and mate Toma, these twins were the promise of a satisfied soul long in the making. Tusi and Shelela quivered the dance of acknowledgment … from tip of head to tips of tail the small birds gave thanks for the continuity of remembering. It is important to remember. The leaves on the slender cherry tree were fully formed and blossoms already filled the limbs that surrounded the windowed nest. The quiver was a sign, a herald that continued down the shimmering red trunk of the cherry and up into the moisture laden air of the Lake. Bernadette was first to visit, she has always loved babies almost as much as she loved old round-bodied mortal females. The queen arrived with a gift for each new swallow and a gift for each parent. “Gypsy queen, it’s a pleasure we be feeling to have you our first guest and well-wisher,” Shelela was one of Bernadette’s biggest fans. The soft mocha skinned frog queen visited the new mother during the early days of the warming, coming when Shelela slid into the moment of first dreaming. Shelela knew it was Bernadette’s grace of parallels that allowed her to be with The Bird and her own dear self. That mixed the two women … mortal and Wood Crafter in a most meaningful way I can tell you. “To see you in the light of a spring evening Mother, that is a pleasure and a gift right there!” Bernadette smiled a wide frog grin that caught the attention of the wee swallow Toma. “Ah, this be the reassembled darling that has waited so long for the future. Delightful and delighted you be. And so ‘tis the gift of …” and the rest of the words were cloaked so only the wee little girl swallow and the Gypsy queen knew for sure. For the twin boy Bernadette held a tiny vial kept in the gossamer web spun by an ancient Wood Crafter from the South. “You will need this in your future when all things turn top side down and down side up. When what roots flies, and what flies roots, the babe will make sense of those who float.” All the while Bernadette rubbed the tiny vial between her hands until at last the vial was the color of a deep clean night sky. “They are perfect Shelela, Tusi.” From under her wings Bernadette pulled a length of finely woven rope. She handed it to Tusi. “This will come in very handy dear one. When the time is neigh the rope will do your bidding. Trust it, not your eyes. Dear Shelela of the Swallow with the namesake of the greatest of all song tellers. Times will call you to remember past and present. Fear will tempt you to forget your gift; with this mask temptation will not trespass.” A silver mantel of feathers fit like second skin against Shelela’s small face. “Store it well and use it when the time is neigh.” With all four gifts delivered the fairy rose from the nest, clicked her heels like once a girl with red shoes did click … and she was gone.
The tale is just fine Thanks, JT
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