You do not currently have permission to view the full text for this document. Please sign in to an account with an active subscription or contact support.
They don’t object to the scorch of Januaryor the great buffeting of the windthough they may notice temperatures risingyear on year.
They don’t moan when the Wifi is downThey don’t drop bombsThey don’t pull on my skirt when I walk past with the watering canThey don’t know words.
Sunlight is breakfast. Dirt is richesThey accept all the rain.