He's the one who's set all that up.
Of course, he still watches me from the rear, right?
It must just be that way.
Far away in the distance, where the neatly cut array of lined up trees--giving directly on the forest--rested, Old Sipping was to be found also resting on one of the many branches going up where he was.
As I faced his direction; he did just the same.
I waved at him in great and frantic movements; he just, once again, did about the same, though his waving hand wasn't so excited and full of energy like mine.
Old Sipping was just that way.
I needed to talk to the old man and his attention was caught by my waving hand already.
And stroking his beard, he still was facing me--he would listen.
Inhaling and exhaling repeatedly before going down to the task, my chest went up, and down … back up, and back down again.
Finally, at once, I inhaled deeply, "Fuuuuu…"
And from the top of my lungs,
He's the one who's set all that up.
