BROTHERS Just two boys -- my boys -- two brothers -- Hiking back along a graveled road Returning from beside the lake at night. Boys whose days are filled with school and chores and play -- Brothers close enough to fuss and fight when each can't have his way -- Returning from a rare and pensive treat far from familiar friends or haunts at home, A soft-sell show in nature's finest style 'neath glowing moon, devoid of chill or breeze. They walked ahead -- in silence -- shoe and stone the only conversees, And from the eldest crept a soulful arm around the shoulder of the smaller one, A quiet, reassuring pat -- nay, squeeze -- as on we trod along the shad'wy path to gain our temporary residence and there to dream in sleep. Robert Kraft at French Creek State Park Pennsylvania 4 June 1971