My mother said I never should / Tessie Word

As the mother of a young child, at times it seems that everything in my world has gone soft. I am trying to find softness in sound and so have begun using soft tools: brooms, paintbrushes, violin bows on cymbals, a snowstorm. A gust of wind turns a corner and becomes a howl. A pretty rhyme about fairies in the woods is both a mysterious invitation and ominous warning about the predatory aspects of human nature, impossible to ignore or refuse.