There seems to be a poetry field, or something, between me and the Canadian horses in Pelham.
As I come over a particular hill, and look north towards Mount Toby, some set of words will come to me, from nearly nowhere it seems, and I'll have to pull over at the UMass Sunwheel and write them down. If I don't, they're lost. If I do write them down, I can find them again. I think – I haven't actually tried to find something yet. I am still too astonished at words appearing like this.
I'll take a picture next time I go that way.