Grassy cliff a'callin', green, it's kept up by some people brave and wily both. Apparently no fear of fallin' halts them when they are clearing off the overgrowth. In summer it is somethin', and boys'll take their boys there in the dead of night, in July or maybe a month in, and little girls will go there just to fly a kite.      Late last August a girl on Skidmore went to the cliff but forgot her glasses. She couldn't see the trains at all, and though a voice at her side described the scene, detailing it all quite clearly, it didn't satisfy. She'd rather have had her good eye there, her zoom lens (as a binocular).      Two Crowns went over looking; they went over to the overlook to look over. Below them there was was nothing cooking but locomotives paused within a muggy blur. The Skidmore girl could have told them, "There's not so much to see under a cloudless sky...though my camera prefers this to darkness." She opened up the shutter so the Crowns could cry.      It was the night when the girl on Skidmore went to the cliff for an eighteenth picture. She couldn't see the trains at all, and though those men at her side described the scene, detailing it all quite humbly, their voice a muffled moan — she'd rather have had her good eye there, her zoom lens (as a binocular).