The sunshine is in slanted rhyme
with our gazes. Leaves, broad and green,
brown and lean, are assonant and
consonant with the gripping grass.
Blended they recall our shy bend
of fingers, held mid-reach. Murmur-
mothering creek echoes the pool
and flow of voices carried off.
A day walks by us on bare feet.
This season, a coupling couplet,
teaches us the chorus we’ll bear,
repeating its re-treating song.