Take my hand and lay with me. . .
. . .A boat is cutting through dark-green waters
I am watching it while dad is rowing
I spot a thread of smoke at the bank, a smell of food, somebody's waving us...
We're home, both tired, wet but pleased: today, it was perfect fishing.
My mom's surprised and happy, so am I.
She's smiling, praising me, her son.
I am running, my sister's joining me! It's swing time, who's the first?
We're swinging so that apples fall and joy fills the garden.
And then we're having evening meal outside together.
Black-yellow tongues of fire are rushing up into the velvet sky, so magically stellated. . .