The car never grew. We thought summer had passed, and the kids were right. Left in their leather seats – the grass caught up with us. Rubber tanned. Slow as dawn broke, winter opened a yawn and released. We stopped to watch but saw nothing, so receded back down below. We don’t know where they came from, maybe they never came at all. Principally we welcomed them, but they were gone so soon and passed. So we didn’t dare protest. We cut and we pumped and all was ready. Adorned with coats, the men left – we said farewell.