A thicket of kids cropped up each night as summer shut its blinds on

the sun’s last grasp. Each night we sped across thick grass with ease

and chase, and the wind whispered, Cut left, now right, as it whorled

within our ears. All summer long we raced through evening air, limbs

slick with sweat, skin cooled quickly by speed's breath. And the breeze

buoyed our shirts and it felt like flying, our minds freed of any thought

but hustle. Summer held us in its bright caress, and we shouted,

You're safe, you're safe, to each other from inside the park's sound

sweep — and we captured that promise and cast its echo back across

rough tundra on winter’s darkest days.