The Mist Closes Behind Her

On her last afternoon, Polly flew high above the coast. Below her were the tea fields, the crater lakes, and the quiet forest. The island looked like old volcanoes, still slowly turning green.

Boats went back to the harbor. Lights came on along the coast. Smoke smell drifted up from the shore.

Fog came in from the sea. It covered the crater, then the tea fields, then the harbor. Polly had seen this before.

She flew out over the water. Behind her, the island kept cooking dinner underground and growing tea. A small grey bird stayed safe in its forest.