Litany Rewrite

Hannah's Litany

You are the fire and the grate,

the harvest and the moon.

You are the final fantasy of an Idaho evening,

and the dizzying spin of the Tilt-a-Whirl.

You are the timely phone call,

and the laughter under a bed at 4 AM.

However, you are not the road to the East,

the socks paired with sandals,

or the poisonous whisper of gossip.

And I can assure you that you are not a green leaf in a valley.
You could never be a green leaf in a valley.

You might be a knife with no sheath,
and possibly a clay pot full of rupees,
but you will never be the queen of spades.

And a look at yourself will quickly reveal
that you are neither the arm around the back of a chair,
or the last day of school.

And just in case you were wondering,

while we are on the subject,
that I am the squeeze of a hug.

I am also the splash of water in a lake,
the benefactress of an Italian plumber,
and the slap of feet during a dry thunderstorm.

I am the Oregon seaside
and the book taken from its shelf.
But never fret, for I am not the fire and the grate.
You are still the fire and the grate.
You will always be the fire and the grate,
and don't forget that you are the harvest and, of course, the moon.