Little girl goes down to the water.
Little girl climbs up the hill.
Little girl wanders in the woods.
Little girl collects little things.
Creatures and curiosities.
Puts them in her pockets.
Skipping and running and playing at hunting.
Now and then she stops, and rests.
Her every heartbeat,
her every breath,
conspires with the fragrant moist air,
the rocks and the trees,
to forget her home.
There she waits before the sunset.
She waits as long as she can.
Oh, how precious is this place.
To the sea and the hills. . .