“lazybones, lazybones,” and I don’t know if it’s Bruce Sylvia or Butchie Davidson or Royal Davis yelling come out to play, it’s maybe a dream, long-ago hometown stuff, someone with a football, someone with a flashlight…
why oh why wasn’t it three months of school and nine for summer vacation? why are things sometimes so tough?
and yet, silly goose,
even the copper beech is turning, as it enacts its autumn face.
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