The Bundle by Ron Koppelberger

Hay bales and ragweed chocked fray, pumpkin smiles and orange twilight repose, wisdom and understanding autumn stead, the typical screams of trick or treat and candy corn, Carmel chew chaw, managed misty acclaim and the boundaries of a porcelain treasure. There were two minds concealed in domain, a mind to cry in throes of exasperation and a mind to celebrate the sanctity of beauty and requited wishes, fulfilled quantum’s………a dream in the dress of fortune and fate.

The shiny porcelain face blinked at Niamey Friendly with happy bubbling purpose. She had found the bundle on her front porch wrapped in a dirty shammie, a doll, a baby doll. The local children had left the doll on Niamey’s porch as a Halloween prank. “That old hag will go crazy!” Bobby Perkins had laughed. “Crazy morning, crazy day crazy, crazy all the way!” they had sung on her front walk. Niamey had repeated a prayer and sang to herself, “Little baby coddle coo, little baby what shall I do? A means to an end and angels that send the souls of babies to waiting mothers and kneeling lovers.” She sang and by dawn’s break , all saints day, she extended her arthritic fingers and stroked the cooing, suspiring baby with tender affection and love. The thanksgiving grace of god had touched the soul of a sleepy inhalation and the wish of a solitary dream as the trick became the gift of life