I could dig 

Thru the archives

Yielding 

yet more

and more 

but the threat 

of repetition again and again and again

Nah wrong box

Wrong inbox

Wrong ammo box

Wrong Winchester BB rifle

Wrong path

But it's the one I'm given

gave myself

dug the trail 

Hatch marks

Stacks of stones

They say no stacks of stones

Hurts animals or something

No literary authors buried beneath the bridge

near Eleanor Boy's house in the forest

By the creek

You found some things

In the forest

Took them home

Dad accused you of stealing