I was happy for three-quarters of an hour on Tuesday: between the arrival of Shadow Hand by Anne Elisabeth Stengl and a letter in the mail and leaving for my brother’s last at-home basketball game of the season.
I’d spent the morning scrubbing the kitchen cabinets, but that wasn’t a matter of happiness—more like satisfaction and accomplishment. And even the basketball game wasn’t necessarily a gamebreaker; it was only a five-minute drive in, instead of the fifty or seventy-minute drives to the last four games over the past two weeks.

"Ned, bring me bread!"
is what Mother said
when she woke up on a warm western morn.
But Ned refused, for he felt so abused,
and besides, he would rather have corn.

But the wind did blow,
for that's how winds go,
and he had to go down to the store.
While dear Mother's voice gave him no more choice,
So he hurried off to the shop on Seashore.

Seashore was a road
where many a toad
had met his unfortunate end.
But despite this gloomy thought, Ned went to where they bought
everything they needed, my friend.