Daughters at dusk

A horizon in flames 

Over misty veiled mountains

Brings no warmth to her freckled cheeks

As we move on a path chiseled by generations

Willing but weary.

We are losing light.

Piggybacks and tangled fingers

Traded for gangly arms and feet that trip over tangles of roots

Slowing the journey

As we move on a path worn by girls

Growing and greying.

We are losing light.

About the Author

Christina McCauley is a middle-aged undergrad juggling school, two teenage daughters, a husband, and a very handsome dog. When she’s not studying or running mom-taxi duties, you can usually find her singing- any time, any place.