A slightly-belated six sentences for Sunday, March 23:
How many passing winters has it been since we were carried over the ocean from our home? Our home, of juniper swamps and cypress swamps, of tidal pulses and meander scars, of the great salt bay. Long ago we saw the rise and the power and the lowering of the sun, we watched the coming of the stag moon. And you—you swans with fire, with smoke in your mouths. Are you punishment? Were you sent to injure us by the beautiful, cold-eyed man who scars all those who look upon him?