"A small, sophisticated, elegantly sentimental journey through a New Hampshire village summer. Our companions are an aging poet, who is sad because he can no longer writehe has lost the joy he used to have in simply being aliveand a young, mischievous female donkey, who is sad because she can't run and playshe has a touch of arthritis. . . . There is a moral, of course, but any moral looks dull next to the simple happiness of the old poet and his long-eared muse."The New Yorker
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