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She gathered them one by one
And put them in a basket
She looked at each face and called them 
All flowers

He walked through the fields and sang
The field sang back
He named all the children of the field
And they smiled back

Under the sycamore tree they met
The shade was cool
It was noon and the sun was high
They did not speak

For a long time nothing moved
The silence was good
They understood
The air held its breath

The day grew long and thirsty
She offered him a cup
It was a broken cup
He thanked her

He took the broken cup and filled it
With water from a brook
The brook was nearby
When he returned it was empty

She drank of the empty cup
The water was cool
She thanked him
For a long time nothing moved

The day grew long and tired
He took the cup and covered it
With flowers from the basket
They understood

In the shade the flowers sang
The air held its breath
The brook was nearby
They were tired 

Under the sycamore tree they slept
The shade was cool
It was late and the sun was low
In a dream they met

For a long time nothing moved
The flowers slept
In their dream she awoke
She took the broken cup

It was night and the moon was high
She took the broken cup and filled it
With flowers from the basket
The brook was nearby

The sycamore tree became a willow
She went to the brook and looked
The flowers wept in their sleep
It was empty and dry

In the brook she found a book
She opened the book and looked
It was empty
The fields became a desert and it was late

In their dreams he awoke
Under the willow he dug a hole
The roots were thirsty
She returned with the book and looked

It was night and the moon was low
The desert was cool and the flowers slept
They understood
She looked at the hole and wept

He took the book and offered it to the hole
It was empty
The roots were thirsty
For a long time nothing moved

She took the book and put it in the hole
The willow was thirsty
They covered the book with sand
It was night and the flowers slept

In the dream they slept under the willow
The book was thirsty
It was late and the sand became loam
The empty brook nearby was tired

The flowers awoke and looked at the loam
They dug a hole and found the book
It was early and the moon became the sun
They understood

In the dream they awoke under an oak
She looked at the flowers and wept
He took the book and offered it to the flowers
It was cool and the sun smiled

Under the oak the flowers sang
The book was filled with names
The names were thirsty
She took the book and read it to the flowers

She looked at the flower faces and called them 
Each by their names
One by one they smiled and wept
In the dream they were no longer thirsty
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