the boy who was six
running over hills and jumping over streams
now he's nearly sixty;
and the girl, she too,
she who picked flowers in the woods
and who fetched water from the well
she too has seen time's movement
with all the joys, the pain
and the activity and goings on that come with it:
one strolls over the hill now in the quiet
and one sees the full moon
over the giant trees
the moon distant in the sky
and yet its gentle rays spread over the tree heads;
one sees all this calm and peace