We are going down the valley,
with our faces toward the setting of the sun.
Tonight I feel like Spanish Moss.
Maybe it is because Pinecraft is empty...
Maybe it is because my neighbor's funeral was yesterday...
Pinecraft is constantly shifting and changing. In the winter months Pinecraft groans under the weight of thousands of people. Pinecraft felt the vibrations of masses of people going up and down the streets. It groaned under the jumping up and down going after the volley ball and after the basket balls. It was constantly feeling the push of being shuffled back and forth on the Shuffleboard courts. And suddenly Pinecraft is emptied out. The people disappeared by the droves, by the dozens, by the hundreds. And Pinecraft swings and sways quietly in the evening, at dusk alone, like the Spanish Moss. And Sam walks toward the setting of the sun.