I WALKED IN THE DAY'S LAST HOURS, UNDER GREY. OVER FENCES, ACROSS FIELDS, THROUGH SCRUBBY BRUSH, ALONG THE DEER TRAIL, A FOREST PATH, BUSHWHACKED, AND FELL DOWN ONCE, BUT GRACEFULLY ENOUGH, WITHOUT IMPALING ANY BODY PARTS ON SHARP STICKS OR STONES. GATHERED KINDLING, SNAPPING THE LOWER BRANCHES OFF WHITE PINES, AND RESOLVED TO SPEND DAYS ALONG THE STREAM WHERE DUCKS FLY ROUND AND ROUND AND LOWER AND LOWER UNTIL THE LANDING ON THE LITTLE POND. FRESHENING,SWIRLING OF WATERY WORLDS.