As we sat in the sun talking art,
a procession emerged from the house,
led by a man playing the fiddle.
He wore a hat pulled down over his thin, expressive face,
and beside him walked a woman with gray hair.
The music he was playing -- clear, lilting --filled the air
with the sound of happiness and adventure:
".. by the lemonade springs
where the bluebird sings
at the big rock candy mountain."
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