From Cabot Plains, Vermont

Boston did not sleep - rainy wind and cold.
I am in Vermont at last, and so is the sun.
Reading, with a view of the white mountains.
Cats and dogs and bugs and birds and horses.
Tactors' desiel engines struggle up the crest.
What freaks the horses? A certain kind of wind.
The winds sends whiffs of horseshit scent my way.
. . . . .