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We cried. In the kitchen, an Avett Brothers song played: ‘I And Love And You.’

Swingsets and sunsets see each other’s plight. They nod and continue on.

Behind the pulpit, clad in black, he was a wick prepared to be lit.

Sometimes kangaroos need the cool of shade; sometimes I need solitude.

May my heart mimic the children whose game goes on though the sun has set.

Beauty unfurls like roots of a giant ficus. It may trip you up.

The Indri’s wail lacks emotion: spirits of the dead simply present.