this is a wing. it was woven on Wednesdays. we wore it when Whim woke us early for Wren’s Ways.
this is a moon. it was molded on Mondays. my grandmother made it to manage the sun’s maze.
these are the gifts i’ve given out to represent my guarantee — one to a woman who swam in my sea, one to a man who tied time to my tree.
wing for my woman, moon for my man. they’ll carry my calling card, now and onwards, in the [only|way that] humans can.