The deer in the park watch me with curiosity. What mysteries of life have I found? Do I know the way to the ever-green grass? With the breeze, they fade away -- only daydreams -- and I look to memory: Home in Virginia, the summer fields, winter meadows, spring brooks... Enough years I've lived to know them all many times. But the ever-green grass I have yet to find. Only in daydreams, seeming a little greener each year.