Ah late afternoon of June second! - windtorn iris petals over my son and me.
In Liberty Park we watched the fireworks through the trees. The skyrockets looked just like fantastic fruits that flowered ripened and fell, flowered ripened and fell . . . And years seemed to go by.
A girl sat down across from me. A girl lovely as air. She gazed into my eyes a long while . . . And years seemed to go by.
My son took off his sandals. I should have scolded him, I guess. But I kept still, now in darkness, now lit up by green lights and red . . . And years seemed to go by.
But suddenly the gentle fruits ripened and fell and flowered no more . . .
''I'm cold!'' my son said then, ''Let's go home! . . .''
And off we went. The path crunched underfoot as though every hourglass in the world had been shattered against it.