Author: Ann Graham
Other Sister touches Timid Sister’s elbow, offers a boiled egg on a tiny porcelain plate. She swallows the egg whole. From May to October Timid Sister pushes aside the drapery and plants her face between the window grille bars at sunrise. There’s a smear where her nose lands. Stock-still, she spies a ruby-throated hummingbird eagerly take the sugary liquid. The blown glass globe, already hung on a twisted wrought-iron stand when the centenarian sisters moved in some seven years earlier. Timid Sister flutters, emulates the throaty waves. The cloying syrup makes her cough. Minuscule undulations of the scarlet gorget reflect the easterly sun until it’s bombarded by another feisty hummer. Tracked, trailed, two smooth streaks, one directly on the other’s tail. Timid Sister’s beak bumps the glass pane; her shoulders hunch; her feet disappear. Other Sister touches Timid Sister’s elbow and offers a blue crystal bowl brimming with treacly nectar.