When the light turns the clouds pink
and shadows appear, when meat is burning,
when a dog licks his haunches in the dry grass
and a bee climbs into the scented rose, you may
forget your childhood, forget the grown-ups
gossiping, swigging beer and lighting cigarettes.

Like someone playing God,
call out to the burning bush of light.
Turn and beckon the sun toward
its final drop into the charcoal pool of night.
Command the moon to come forward.
Summon the rest of your life to its feet.