Sumpter stood back, smiling. “Yes, I understand now why I see you as I do. My interpretation, of course. But you are who I knew you were.”

“Am I?” Seven asked., “But there’s someone I want to introduce. Please ask your people to be quiet and just observe.” And Seven called Lydia. She looked down at herself with some surprise. She was wearing a lovely softly folded gown that she remembered wearing years ago, as a young woman. Confused, she said politely to Ma-ah, “How do you do?” As soon as she spoke, the Speakers stirred with sudden understanding.

“I’ve seen you someplace before,” Ma-ah said. “But how can that be?” She frowned. “Maybe in my dreams. But I’m sure that I know you.”

They stood staring at each other, astonished by the warmth they felt, and then Lydia gasped: she was … growing younger, there was no doubt of it. “Something strange is happening to me,” she said, in a whisper. “And besides that, the funniest things are coming into my mind. They’re pictures of your life,” she said to Ma-ah. “I know they are. They’re your … memories. They’re certainly not mine.”

The same thing was happening to Ma-ah. She saw Lydia as a child, as a mother, as—Quickly Ma-ah dropped her eyes, for the pictures in her mind showed her something else—Lydia’s death. And she understood in a flash that Lydia didn’t know. A great, almost unbearable love went through her for this … woman, this girl, this dead old woman? Confused completely, Ma-ah turned to Seven.

“Lydia is going to read some of her poetry,” he said.

“Oh, do,” Ma-ah cried quickly, for who would tell Lydia that she was dead? And what did the whole thing mean? How long could a dream last, if this was a dream? But suppose it wasn’t? “Sumpter?” she said, but Sumpter took her hand and motioned her to be silent.

The Speakers quieted. Lydia opened her book. “This is from my Sumari Songs for Children,” she said, and she began to read:

The wind remembers tomorrow.
Children, hear its voice.
It speaks through the voice of the singing leaf
That dangles in time’s corner.

All at once is evermore.
The leaf in the moment knows
It is present and past and tomorrow now,
And even a leaf is wise.

Sumpter’s face showed such utter surprise with the poem that Lydia broke off. “What is it?” she asked. The Speakers murmured. Expectancy was on each face.

“Please read another poem,” Sumpter said. Ma-ah couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She just kept staring at Sumpter, waiting for an explanation.

Lydia looked around again. She was more confused than ever, but not at all frightened. Her poetry had never affected an audience so strongly, and she felt more exuberant each moment. Once more she began to read: