Voices on the Wind Voices on Aging
Shadow by Beate Sigriddaughter If you were fine wine from ancient cellars, we would savor you; if you were an old tree, we would stand in awe, feeling the wind that ruffles your branches in our hair too; if you were a castle or a golden ornament, even a skull, or an illuminated manuscript from former hands, we would bring reverence and longing. You, on the other hand, grow more or less invisible with age. But look, how young your shadow plays before the rising sun.