I, in blue-dress tie-flowered vines, the brown-root wonder of the greatest lake.

You, the tan-wash whirlwind of the highest brigade, the first glint of silver skipping rocks in the daze.

Slipping past all for a touch, so crystalline, a split-stalk switch with vines intertwined.

Warm and cool in clouds strapped hostage to the sky, with smiles on wet faces breathing in the sunny side.