Fermata

When the oak tree that I lean against
also shields me from the wind
Which pushes the long grass
into a frantic submission
Catching the sunlight
here and there
So that if I half close my eyes
I am surrounded by water, lapping;

When I can't look forward
because of the fighting sun
Cut by the silhouette of a swing
rocking now and then
Dawdling
waiting for the wind to drop
Before it kisses the moment
goodbye;

When Jocelyn runs past
and into the sun
I say 'Where are you going?'
and she says 'I don't know'