||After I did say good-bye, I went goes on to the woods. I did not follow the trail that does go to the
where I do leave letters on leaves for the
. The wind was calling. I followed after it. It was not
the path that does lead to the
. It was calling over logs in the way that does lead to where is that old log with the bunches of flowers by it and under its edges. They was the flowers that the
man of the long step
that whistles most all of the time did gather for the
with the far-away look in her eyes. Some of the bunches of flowers was all faded. It is days a long time since he did put them there, and it is only a little time since he did put the last ones there.
||I set down on the moss my basket that I did carry
baby chickens to christening in. Then I made begins. First I put some moss in the basket, then I did put in some of the bunches of flowers. I put in the most faded ones because they had been waiting waits the longest. Then we all did go in a hurry to the house of her aunt of the gray calico dress with the black bow at its neck.
Center for Electronic Studying, University of Oregon.
February 6, 2003