Bearclaw Valley in the wake of my name

her children grew daily; and watching them grow, learning their personalities as they came into them was a delight. but towhee grew more and more den weary, needing more breaks to stretch her legs. her only wish — strange as she had never yearned for something she had never had in the first place — was to hear their voices. it would never happen, of course. and towhee was who she was, crafted fiercely despite the obstacles she over came every day.

still, she found herself wondering what they might sound like.

she stretches, enjoying the morning sun on her back, peering up at ghost as the children are left in the brief care of a sitter.