She certainly saw why her father had called the contents of the old box a feminine legacy. Were these actual people in the story on the green pages? Were any of them? Were the places real? Any of them? And the language? What about it?
Rachel decided to stop reading and set aside the stack of pink pages which made up the Island Poems. She was intrigued by what she had read and she wanted to read the rest of the poems but she was anxious to see what else the old box might contain.
Bring on the green powers of spring. . .
You robe your human muse in imagined fabrics, designed from the patterns of lichens and mosses . . .
Rachel continued to stare at the key for a few moments. That morning, when she sat down with the heavy book, which still lay on her lap, it had been her intent to discover what the book held in its pages but the key made her even more curious.
Her father’s death had been sudden. Her raw grief had subsided. Her curiosity was now strong enough to explore the books in the cabinet in his study. Rachel went to … Continue reading Her Father’s Letter
