It’s hot today, like that’s all the day has got to do. Wouldn’t it be fine to live in a field to live by a lake to live inside a tree? Wouldn’t it be fine to wade in some grass, to jump on a toadstool, to fall in a hole like a cave in a wood, a mine in a mountain, a hole in a field that was made by a gopher, made by a rabbit, made by a dream of a dreaming boy, of a laughing girl, of a midnight moon, a far away mountain, or a mystical stone? Wouldn’t it be fine to live in a garden, under an oak tree or inside a hollow? But that’s what, if the day is going to come, then that’s what the day is, the day is going to have to be something, and it might as well be hot.
14 June 1972