MOTHER, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me--  
"We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
 
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon.
 
I ask, "But, how am I to get up to you?" They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds."
 
"My mother is waiting for me at home," I say. "How can I leave her and come?"
 
Then they smile and float away.
 
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
 
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
 
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will be the blue sky.
 
The folk who live in the wave............