A roly-poly toddler on a fine fall day. . . scuffing the leaves around the school bus shelter. . . watching a squirrel make off with acorns. . . cajoling his dog to ""do what I do""...calling his mother to ""follow me and see"". . . watching the school bus come ""and take my friends away."" ""Someday I'll go too./ But now./ It's nice to poke the ice/ And watch my stick go through."" Simply the joy of being little and alive, drawn with an old-fashioned apple-checked literalness, the whole imitable if inconsequential.