Волны

           Acart,ahorse,aflockofrooks--whatevermovedinitwasrolledroundingold.Ifacowmovedalegitstirredripplesofredgold,anditshornsseemedlinedwithlight.Spraysofflaxen-hairedcornlayonthehedges,brushedfromtheshaggycartsthatcameupfromthemeadowsshortleggedandprimevallooking.Theround-headedcloudsneverdwindledastheybowledalong,butkepteveryatomoftheirrotundity.Now,astheypassed,theycaughtawholevillageintheflingoftheirnetand,passing,letitflyfreeagain.Farawayonthehorizon,amongthemilliongrainsofblue-greydust,burntonepane,orstoodthesinglelineofonesteepleoronetree.

           Theredcurtainsandthewhiteblindsblewinandout,flappingagainsttheedgeofthewindow,andthelightwhichenteredbyflapsandbreadthsunequallyhadinitsomebrowntinge,andsomeabandonmentasitblewthroughtheblowingcurtainsingusts.Hereitbrownedacabinet,therereddenedachair,hereitmadethewindowwaverinthesideofthegreenjar.

           Allforamomentwaveredandbentinuncertaintyandambiguity,asifagreatmothsailingthroughtheroomhadshadowedtheimmensesolidityofchairsandtableswithfloatingwings.

           ’Andtime,’saidBernard,’letsfallitsdrop.Thedropthathasformedontheroofofthesoulfalls.Ontheroofofmymindtime,forming,letsfallitsdrop.Lastweek,asIstoodshaving,thedropfell.I,standingwithmyrazorinmyhand,becamesuddenlyawareofthemerelyhabitualnatureofmyaction(thisisthedropforming)andcongratulatedmyhands,ironically,forkeepingatit.Shave,shave,shave,Isaid.