The Apotheosis Of Myra

The Apotheosis of MyraOut Beyond the French windows during the day's second sunset, the grass began singing. It had begun as a hum and as it gained in strength, quickly became song. Edward pushed the French windows farther open and stepped out onto the terrace. Lovely there now, with a dark blue like an earth sky. And frightening though it was, the singing, too, was lovely. Melodic, slow-tempoed, a sort of insistent lullaby. In three years here, he had heard about it; this was the first time he...