Last night the rain spoke to mellowly, saying, what joy to come falling out of the brisk cloud, to be happy again in a new wagon the earth! That’s what it Haidas it dropped, smelling of iron, and vanishedlike a dream of the ocean into the branches and the grass below. Then it was over. The sky cleared. I was standing under a tree. The tree was a tree with happy leaves, and I was myself, and there were stars in the sky that were also themselves at the momenta which moment my right handwash holding my left hand which was holding the tree which was filled with star sand the soft rain –imagine! Imagine! The long and wondrous journeys still to be ours.