Silver Stitches

My mother told me tomorrows are snow, yesterdays are rain, and now is always sunny unless you forget to go outside. I keep the windows open all year. Winters are too dark. The fairy lights help. I string them around the windowpane, just a dance beyond the frost. Don’t invite strangers or fairies inside. Unless they pretend to know you. Then you can offer a cup of cinnamon tea and a buttery bun. If they share their soul, invite them in again. If their sweater is torn, and the weather is wicked, stitch it with metallic thread. Silver or gold, it’s all the same after it melts. Liquid glimmers, sewn dreams, a million lives — I keep stitching.