Sonnet to Mr. Frost

When I see golden buses on the hill
I like to think some big dog sits and waits.
Onboard, some school-tired boy shields eyes until
He spots the dog beyond the neighbor's gates.
The friends take off, their path a jagged line
And flowers dip their golden heads to watch
As does the screened-in woman, drinking wine.
She throws the boy a candy, butterscotch.
It's when the world has weighed me so far down
That boys and dogs and wine and golden field
Acquaint me with those treasures not yet brown
And years from now those memories will yield
A lesson straight and true: While gold can't stay,
It's worth its weight in daydreams, anyway.