THE ERMINE COAT

for Cherie

Sometimes I wonder whatever happened to that old Golden Fleece, so highly esteemed by those argonauts who still call to us from the front gates of history. There, prosperity can be summed up by a magic pelt first worn by the sacrificial lamb. This cloak might have made it all the way down to us had we known where to look for it. Maybe it has stayed hidden for centuries in places we little suspected to find it: The crown of thorns placed on Jesus’ head or the crystalline twinkle in a newborn baby’s eye.

It is, in fact, more than possible that the old woman at the bus stop with bags in one hand, scattering crumbs to the birds with her other, while singing to them softly, might also know something about this mythical fleece. Though we least expect it, the old ermine coat that her aunt Bertha gave her as a child might glow in the old walnut chest where she keeps it stored, while she’s out dreaming of a perfect occasion on which to wear it.