So the puzzle of the Babe was how to bring regularly down enough snow to cover the soot. Nature 'd charge too much for the job, the soot would be stubborn, insubordinate to white snow, pure will, and much more snow would be needed. Tom's bantam cockadoodles at fleeing night, lets grackles quarrel over his scatter of corn. A car's eight cylinders tuned smoothly baritone, the milk truck stopping and starting. Drop by drop, water prepares globes that sunbeams will fractionate.
Pipes sing, worms turn, twigs snap, wood swells, old-stinking and nostalgic.
Unbendings, unfastenings, slumpings. A world cracking on its winter cot fore falling asleep again. All this might be sensed early, even abed. if you didn't stay up for the Late Show, or the State of the Union Address. Cocktail Peanut Tan and nude, with many alike in a ceramic bowl, the peanut. Mosquito Untired despite a short day's sleep, microelegant partout, boxerlike weaving and dodging, aggressively boring in, not to be put off by feinting and dodging, loud claps, flailing pudgy fists, returns again and again, seeking an opening, attacking through smoke and porous cloth, strikes without claque, fearless, a fair match unless drugged in violation of Department of Drug Enforcement rules.