There a seed, and a little tree. There a brook, and rolling rocks. I see sky and birds and fluttering monarchs. I hear the field frog sing. There, moths circle the light, and congregate around the bulb, while dusk brings the chorus of crickets to life.

I rest my feet in the coolness of the lake and watch as the fish, like shadows of airplanes, soar beneath.

Not only in the air can one fly.

This world is as deep, and as lovely, as her eyes.