Our trail outstretches like a pathway to heaven,
embroidered with a bed of crisp autumn leaves.
The wind tousles our hair, our bones tremble,
icy clouds form with each exhale. The green
grass stalks tickle the ankles of my boots.
As I run, you chase, grab my arm, and
roar in my ear, “Tag, you're it.” We both stop
and gaze at sticky mud smeared across the
soles of our matching suntanned boots.

The mill spins like a Ferris wheel, pumping water.
We run after the reflection of fish swiftly swimming.
You toss a pebble and it skids across the surface
like a water glider skipping; ripples whirl round lily pads.
I throw a pebble at a swan and you laugh hysterically.
We glide our hands across the pond water, clear, refreshing.

A dragonfly whirs past our eyes,
landing on the tip of your nose.
White doves coo and sunshine sheds.
I snuffle and your ruddy nose runs.
You push me gently on the old swing
set as I scream “Higher, higher.”
I furnish a large smile when
you ride down the slide.
Before I even blink, you launch
a dirt ball right in my face.

Gray clouds drift above and
the downpour begins heavily.
We take shelter in the gazebo;
rusted wood splinters sting my hands.
You trace your fingers along the
writings on the columns, finding
initials carved in hearts and swear words
engraved in capitalized letters.
Both of us reek of soil, grass, and mud.
We pant and wipe the sweat from our
foreheads and you begin to sneeze
violently. But that won't stop us.