This is their world: seagull in heightened flight, heron low skimming, geese flocked up close among lilies, loons in tremolo warning, snakes curled long absorbing heat. Among them now, barefoot and listening to Beethoven, first thing Sunday morning, and suddenly, all I want, is to be part of their world. Music off, breeze picking up, the lake is stirring now. There it is: their world, and me, thinking, and trying too hard, to find a way in. In a few days. In a few days, limbs and breath, in tranquil stretching, loose and deep, will be floating effortlessly, in our world.