On the horizon, I saw a young boy running—
he was tall and skinny with long, wild black hair.
He loped through a wide field toward the forest’s
edge, all smiles, seemingly without a single care.
There, he scrambled up a ladder, disappearing
into an elegant little tree fort all painted in white,
and only moments later, he emerged from a window
with a fox horn, blowing with all his might.
Perched from his lookout, he lowered the horn
and scrupulously studied the horizon, waiting.
Many empty minutes passed, but the boy did not budge,
squinting into the distance, concentrating.
Finally, from the far end of the field, a small
figure appeared, no more than a tiny speck.
And as it drew closer, I could see it was a second boy
with bright red curls falling all down his neck.
The fir
