HEY BUD, MUD
It was all over by the time it
started and even the shadows
were late. We stayed anyway,
around. This time of year, even
in this icy cold, anything here
can happen. The dogs are in
the pond, and the fish are in
the dog run, but people talk
so much that no one notices
a thing. Along the monument
path, we walk over to the river
by the pavilion that's selling
coffee. They call it, 'Hey Bud,
Mud,' which I always thought
was a rather catchy name, if you
like your coffee super-strong.
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