Oh sweetest flower blooming from bliss Her soft little hands, his small bit of rage, the playground

and its two giant oak trees, and placed in the frame of a square wood bench its four directions embraced in a box upon the surface of the earth its trunk and deep in the recess, the moistened roots, tall as their branches and strung in their leaves, from the source of its life-scent and color divine yet common and ordinary not broken not outlawed not feared nor lost if paradise perfection wrought, love, then what is more exquisite than Eden but the heavens in the hands of the world.