Evening porch sitting, David Bigelow green tea in hand. Utter Sunday stillness. no cars or trucks on the asphalt still damp from afternoon rains. Newly born rabbits pad about in their new world. soft, Reliable breeze comes courting from the southwest to rise leisurely up Oliver Street, late for dinner robins peck through the grass for a late night appetizer If you were looking for the heart of Sunday night atop Oliver Street, you’d be pumping through its atriums and out its ventricles right here.
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