081413 #worm Him and Me stop, wring out their wet trouser-bottoms. They lean their scrawny asses up against the majesty of a struck sycamore. Its oblong patchwork of watery greens supports them with a harmony no wisecracking muskrat could hope to approximate. The one behind them tries, however, and his skittering remarks dance like cottonwood wishes across the surface of the reflective water.