from the Song Cycle "Seven For Luck"
Music by John Williams
Lyrics by Rita Dove
no recording available
In water-heavy nights behind grandmother's porch
We knelt in the tickling grasses and whispered:
Linda's face hung before us, pale as a pecan,
And it grew wise as she said:
"A boy's lips are so soft,
As soft as baby's skin."
The air closed over her words.
A firefly whirred near my ear, and in the distance
I could hear streetlamps ping
Into miniature suns
Against a feathery sky.