Dancing Spirits
by Sarah Byam

A winter Whisp rose from the cobblestones just outside Grandma’s house. As she and little Anders made caramel on the stove with Carnation sweetened condensed milk, cinnamon, cardamom and anise, the scented steam puffed up the chimney and over the roof.

The wind led the Whisp up and up, as she drew up the kisses of sweet and spice into her arms.

Together they danced across the world, gathering in scent as they went. The bite of coffee brewing at the Simpsons. The tang of berbere from the Tedesses. The luscious warmth of fresh baked challah bread at the Friedmans. Woodsy rosemary. Sharp lime. Comforting vegetable stew. The earthy embrace of the forest. The salt and sour of the sea. The freshness of rain.

In their wake they carried bits of snow and music, the choir of a clapboard church, the cry of a starling mourning its mate. The horns or a mariachi band, the smoke of burning money, the flavor of chocolate, nutmeg, lemon grass, basil and thyme.

They danced down the click of clocks, the canon of bells, and the flowers of frost draping themselves around the earth like a snow globe.

Then, as the world spun, the first star in the sky followed the sun crossed the ice cold Angel and her sweet suitors. They crackled and melted, dew mixing with with breath, In a slightly sweet sunrise against winter sky.

Changed, combined, stirred and warmed, people felt a little more hopeful, the Angel and her mates gave their gift as they were briefly inhaled around the world.