A poem. — There’s nothing quite like it, the sound of refreshment. Soothing, tingling, playful, it beckons our natural spirit. This isn’t always the case, if you’re the second floor of three. But we suburbanite single-stories listen and smile with glee. Once upon a time, for many years it’s true, we didn’t have much pitter-patter, and everyone’s spirit was blue. Now the season is long upon us, and people are growing tired. Of the constant pitter-patter, and expensive soles a mired.