He of the upper valley comes sometime to our upper story, when snow is less, trees more.
I ask how snow-wheat grows on trees and then sun comes and there is water a-dripping.
In the upper valley tall pines stand as if dead always there, to be green soon after noon.
It is how upper valley works, in my upper story he tells me in ways vague and temporary.
In the upper valley the trees eat snow-wheat for a sheen and when all is eaten turn green.
He of upper valley is vague, about all things in the world. Upper fog makes him vague.