look at the sun, right there going down over the hill at the edge of the ocean the same as it did that day when I smelled summer flowers for the very first time standing where birds sang, but not for food to tell us how beautiful it was and we should watch I remember the forest too, from which we had come the trees, and... how they didn't want us to leave knowing we didn't want to go by surrounding us with their scent of evergreen everywhere we picked tiny needles from the fascicles along the way as we ducked their branches and cracked a few of them that had fallen down was the best we could do to hang in that moment still staying the course on the boggy trail toward civilization from our childish play from our childlike adventures lazy strides at first until we got to the grassy knoll then we had to go a little faster than we were for soon someone would be calling for us their voice getting higher and louder blaring against the hillside in warning because the dark was coming to capture small boys although, by now, we would had reach the field as we timed it, with enough light to guide us past the old the dog who was deaf and blind over a thatch fence that gave tiny hands splinters if you were not careful ten year old friends breaking off in their own directions until they reach their paths to home tired for bed, ready for dreams of doing it all again tomorrow... and the day after... ...and the day after that just before the summer sun dissappears
Earth To Ash 