Trees along the street, which are maple,

Or have no name,

This spring make bending shadows.

Last spring the same.

God is a four-motor plane

Droning over, on time, high.

Coming from far away, loud, louder,

Going away in the sky.

I print my words now, new words.

Next year we learn to write.

This coat is one we did not send

To Europe, but we might.

My name is James. If you

Saw me with my father,

You would understand my face,

If we were walking with my mother.

This is the best time of year.

Last year was best, too.

My mother and father and I

Hardly know what we want to do,

Be a flagpole, be a shadow,

Be a Grade V dancing ring,

Or fly to California and back,

Or wait till next spring.

We want to laugh at the whole world,

Walking and talking together.

I don't have to wear a hat now,

Not in this weather.