We are alone in the woods
Around us are trees, frail sunlight through their leaves
We sit on the ground
Amidst the bronze sticks
Playing with lines in the dirt.

The wind blows past our ears
Outside the trees around us
There is nothing out there
We look back to the dirt
The world is blue above us, not a cloud in the sky

We can have a quiet in the trees
Between the sticks and the leaves.

21.VI.2024