When the full moon peeks over the hedge,
the scent of orange blossoms fills the air.
We run down a narrow alley, feeling
the sting as trailing ivy grabs our ankles.
Playing "Kick-the-Can," listening to its clink
as it rolls among rocks and weeds.
We laugh all the way to Scott's Orchard,
stopping, out of breath...leaning
into each other--we tremble a little
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