A Thousand Cranes

The colored papers fluttered about like trapped birds. The raw wind and naked trees kept the real birds from venturing out from nearby deeper woods. One of the iridescent paper cranes reflected the scudding gray clouds, the twitching branches and waving dead grass, splintered images like shattered glass. I felt like my bones were stitched to the outside of my skin.

There was no grave stone yet, just a brass marker with his names and dates on it, cold and square. We all looked at each others' shoes, chilled by a force that might tear us asunder if we looked at each others' eyes. I pushed a dowel down into the soil, careful not to loosen any of the long strands of origami cranes tied around the top.

I stepped back and watched as they strained against the twine, as tethered as souls to earthbound bodies.