Excerpt: The Way of Things

The way of things is the way they are. The sun rises and the sun sets. The rain falls and the river rises and the sun dries the water away. A bird blown on the wind of the storm drops a seed, and a plant from that seed grows and bears fruit unknown before in that place. That is the way of things. Pattern is the way and change is the way, and changes are part of the pattern.

There was a man and there was a woman. They met and became man and wife, wife and man. One and one became two and the two were one, and that is the way of things. And as is the way of things, the two became three and the three became four and the four became five. And as all things are loved and troubled beneath sun and moon, they lived their lives and grew stories for old women to tell small ears on dark nights when the winds come from all four corners and speak of far places and strange things.

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To the woman and the man were born three daughters, as alike as sunsets and different as dawns. They were good in heart and fair in mind, and their spirits made beauty seem plain. Still beauty was theirs, thought no one might say which of the three was the loveliest. Meeting one on the pathway, a person might think: that is the fairest and brightest of all fair fine women. Then walkg a way and meet her sister, and those thoughts are gone like a breath.