T h e clover field stretches down a long hill to a cluster of trees Where a pony stands, flicking his tail at persistent flies. Above the hills to the west, the sun is buried in a wall of boiling thunderheads. T h e boy watches as a cool, yellow silence drifts across the fields...
"Summer of Clover, Summer of Trains,"
Sketch: Vol. 33
, Article 10.
Available at: http://lib.dr.iastate.edu/sketch/vol33/iss2/10