The almost
dusk light from the sun wasn't warm, but it did blaze,
casting its glaring light over the Mt. Holyoke Range ,down on Summit Road,
while the Maples busied themselves throwing their elegant fingerling shadows
down upon the cold road and the frozen earth beneath , as the clouds shot by in
the brisk breeze overhead, the boyo stomped in grasses dreaming of scattering
wild things, and the small curling road looked to go on forever .
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