Harriot West

Naucrate’s Tale

I made him wash his hands before supper, go to bed by nine, and I never let him run with scissors, eat green bananas or read scary stories.

But I believe in dreams and taught my son to be a dreamer too, and so I watched him spread his wings, my only boy, soaring towards the sun. 

His father blames me, and I fear he may be right, as now we’re left with nothing . . . but memories of feathers floating on the waves and a boy’s belief that he might fly.

a fluttering
of moonlight
through the pines
sometimes I hear
his voice

---

About the Author

Harriot West lives in Eugene, Oregon. She is the author of two award-winning collections, Into the Light and Shades of Absence.