My dear Susan -

Sometimes in the
middle of the night, often
in lonely/lovely[?] rides over hills
crowned with sunlight, or
in dark hallways, & in the
midst of lunch/church[?]-services,
or here in my cozy "study"
with books for walls (or
windows?) but[?] ? come of
all those perfect places where
we move every-day, between
Holyoke & Toby. I see every
curve of the outline of
the first with its perfect