We, too, are drawn to the simple: pink shark on a steel-gray sky,
barefoot boys and girls, the faces of strangers, less strange now.
Our lives are full of moments, say these stubbled fields, say these
fat pigs, says this black buggy, waiting. Soon enough, washing dust
from our own bare feet and eating rhubarb pie, we’ll remember
what it took to fly. Air, moving. Children tethered and running still.