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| Running in the milk weed, squinting at the sun, playing with the juba beast— hunting with a gun. Drinking from an old well, stomping in the mud, fighting evil pirates, wading through a flood. Grinning with a Cheshire, |
Throwing flat-rock skippers, sewing paper stamps, digging for some diamonds, sliding down some ramps. Hiding in a dungeon, missing noon-time nap, then tell it all to mother while sitting on her lap. ©R. Bartly Betts, 2001 |