At midday the sun was so strong.
I was on the roof with my father,
splatting tar on its slopes.
My father bent over his work,
and his back shone stark under the heat,
his muscles rippling as if they were
their own creatures.
I stopped a moment to catch
the scent from our ripening trees.
It swelled in my chest,
my lungs bulged, and I tasted
oversweet, warmed orange.
It seemed there was little else.
My mind shuddered stopped,
and I dreamed
I was falling, my body
stretched out, graceful,
soaring for long instants.
