1Robin Dreaming.
Robin dreams of 3 moons rising; silver & bronze & gold. They are tucked like lint into the pocket of the sky & though they sing each to each there is no~one to hear. She dreams a winter wind snapping & snarling down frosted valleys. She stands on the weidway under a net of stars with ice like shards of glass spiking the grass. Her feet know the way, moving surely from standing stone to standing stone between the shadows & always there is this anticipation. This time. This time it will end well. In her dream Robin wears her jeans & one of her brother Ben's thick fisherman's jerseys, thicker & warmer than her own, & because it is a dream & all things are possible, she is snuggly wrapped in Lal's 2nd best cloak, the blue one that is like a summer sky. Her fingers pluck @ the broken threads where the pin has caught, feeling the coarsness of the weaving & the oily slick of lanolin. Her jeans & sneakers are never warm enough &am