On the solstice, if the moon is new,
one may whisper a secret into the midnight air,
thus to part the Veil.
Years I waited for the cycles to align.
Before her grave, I asked for answers.
My heart thundered. One beat, two beats, three.
All I heard was wind.
Casey Laine comes from a long line of talkative women. She has worked as Fantasy Editor at Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, and published two anthologies of fiction and poetry for her writing group, Writers Assembled. In her spare time, she chases butterflies with her camera. Find her on Facebook, Cosmic Roots and Eldritch Shores, and Amazon.