Kijani startled as she heard the cough behind her. She whirled, her braid whipping and her eyes wide. She relaxed, but only slightly, as she saw Mr. Croil standing nearby. How long had he been standing there? She'd been so absorbed in her poem that she hadn't even noticed. The question on her lips was 'what are you doing here?' but she caught herself just in time. This was his orchard and his home, and she should be asking herself what she was doing there. Instead of that, she managed to hear his next question. 

“Read to you? I... yes.” She was surprised to find herself nodding. “I haven't recited anything in quite a while, but I certainly don't mind.” A faint smile came to her lips, and she stood a bit, stretching herself. Even after sitting for a good while, she didn't notice the mild stiffness in her legs. Moving to the edge of the bench, she made sure the page was made visible to him as she cleared her throat. Without waiting for nervousness to truly set in, she began.

“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.”

 Her voice came out strong and carefully articulated every word with practiced eloquence. Rising and falling, seeming to give proper attention to each word, every syllable. It was clear that she'd done this before. Even beyond the elegance of her speech, there was the life in her voice. She wasn't just reciting. There was something brewing just underneath her voice as she read, and it would probably go unheard if she were reciting for some school or event. But with Mr. Croil as her private audience, the hidden anger beneath Kijani's words was easier to detect. Something within the words or the meaning of this poem made her very upset. But... what could that be?

“For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
So He loves the bow that is stable.”

Kijani let the last word hang in the air, as she slowly pulled her eyes from the page, and looked to Mr. Croil. “Ah... what did you think?” A flutter of nervousness whispered through her stomach. For some reason, she truly wanted to impress him. No. Impress was not the word, was it, because that would mean he would think she was better than he. That wasn't what she wanted. She wanted him to see that she, too, had just as many feelings and passions beneath her jewels and finery.