The Sister

She recalled a picture: edge of forest on the edge of night, rivers drowning in the dusk. A black cab carried them precisely to the house on the field’s faint rise. Her sister wondered out the window at trees meeting in the wind like twin knitting needles. Kittens on a bed conjuring a quilt landscape: felines in a field. What had they done, she wondered, to warrant such reception?; Knit, pearl, knit, pearl, sang her sister. When they reached the house, the engine slowed to idle before the door. Was no one home? He was, but often brooded in the dark; windows’ blind eyes were no omens. They stood there in an air she sensed would shift before the sun’s slow exit.