And in a story told she was a little girl in a red-rouge, sun-bruised field
and there were rows of ripe tomatoes where a secret was concealed.
And it rose like thunder, clapped under our hands,
and it stretched for centuries to a diary entry’s end where I wrote,
"You make me happy oh!! when skies are gray"
"You make me happy oh!! when skies are gray and gray and gray."