Oh, look at the leaves. 

Look at how they fly. 

Look at how they circle, 

Freckling the sky. 

It is September, yet 

I can still hear the beach. 

The sea moves and swells; 

it tumbles to the shore, 

dusts itself off, 

They deserve to laugh and sit on the floor and coo over babies. 

They deserve to talk in a language I don’t understand. 

They deserve to look at each other with love.