We played around the reeds
nipping cattails with finger twists,
their velvet displacing air
in a few moments' time.

I carried you when you were small,
pointed out each part of heaven--
its inky depth poured wonder
into your star-washed eyes.
You listened then.

As pupils dilate and irises dull,
you learn what it means to sleep cold.
Horizon melts into nightfall;
sunrise teases damp from the dew.
You may never know again the pavane
of downy wings plotting arrhythmic patterns,
their faded wish--

a dream of frog song upon the dusky pond
reminding them of home.