Happy Valley

by Ingrid Leonard

It takes folk to change our frequency;
we dared each other to run through
an arch that was thick with bees
in an August of rude health, the air husky
with summer and the legs of insects.

We were a litter of newborns lying
near the Dams, chewing grass and squinting.  
The sky-vault was where it would be
the day after, wrapped as we were
in our laughter and time on the idle.