When I lived in Santa Fe, there were nights when digestion ceased and some relief from nausea was found in a copse by a creek. When my favorite season was Spring, when the light being so faint, he could not well make out what sort of figures (the Three Gray Women) were; only he discovered that they had long gray hair; and, as they came nearer, he saw that two of them had but the empty socket of an eye, in the middle of their foreheads. But, in the middle of the third sister's forehead the moon was full, trees threw their shadows across patches of bright snow, and the creek sang to me.



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