Sisters Every year to celebrate his birth, find relief from summer´s last blistering when maples blaze orange and red in the north, the widow journeyed to his sister´s when one year she noted a blue yew blocking light from where they stood framed in windows, apart. ¨A severe pruning,¨ she said, ¨will reduce its height We´ll bonsai layers, like clouds, for a start. Light will reach this room through missing branches. Come with me now. Let´s take saw and shears before autumn ends and cold advances. Let´s not lose courage, give into fears.¨ Later they stood, arms wrapped in light, stronger. Their embrace told her who´d known him longer. CR Green
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