OK THEN,
YES
Once I lived in far hills and distant climes,
playing the piano to cows and horses at dawn,
watching the run of sunlight on the face of two
ponds, with geese and ducks lining the weeded
banks while turtles and bullfrogs squabbed and
tittered - whatever it is those things do in idle
time. I've never had a crayon like that in my life
again. Now everything's changed, the clouds
darken and lower, the wind brings itself up to
speeds unknown, and even the whippoorwill
once fond of me enough to sing, now
does, by contrast, nothing.
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