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In the library two little girls are giggling. She, at first is perturbed and aware that her voice, if voiced, could silence them, but she also realizes their smiles would disappear. They are innocent smiles, as natural as summer stepping barefoot through slats of a fence, as tender as a sleepy kitten yawning, as sweet as the scent of lilac wafting from a weathered wooden planter out back, behind the house, beside a sun-bleached door with oil-thirsty hinges, a baseball-smashed spider-webbed window, sparkling in the silver light of a dusty torn screen. She closes her eyes, relishing hearing two little girls in the library being allowed to giggle undisturbed. |