Волны

           Ripplingsmall,ripplinggrey,innumerablewavesspreadbeneathus.Itouchnothing.Iseenothing.Wemaysinkandsettleonthewaves.Theseawilldruminmyears.Thewhitepetalswillbedarkenedwithseawater.Theywillfloatforamomentandthensink.Rollingmeoverthewaveswillshouldermeunder.Everythingfallsinatremendousshower,dissolvingme.

           ’Yetthattreehasbristlingbranches;thatisthehardlineofacottageroof.Thosebladdershapespaintedredandyellowarefaces.PuttingmyfoottothegroundIstepgingerlyandpressmyhandagainsttheharddoorofaSpanishinn.’

           Thesunwassinking.Thehardstoneofthedaywascrackedandlightpouredthroughitssplinters.Redandgoldshotthroughthewaves,inrapidrunningarrows,featheredwithdarkness.Erraticallyraysoflightflashedandwandered,likesignalsfromsunkenislands,ordartsshotthroughlaurelgrovesbyshameless,laughingboys.Butthewaves,astheynearedtheshore,wererobbedoflight,andfellinonelongconcussion,likeawallfalling,awallofgreystone,unpiercedbyanychinkoflight.

           Abreezerose;ashiverranthroughtheleaves;andthusstirredtheylosttheirbrowndensityandbecamegreyorwhiteasthetreeshifteditsmass,winkedandlostitsdomeduniformity.Thehawkpoisedonthetopmostbranchflickeditseyelidsandroseandsailedandsoaredfaraway.Thewildplovercriedinthemarshes,evading,circling,andcryingfurtheroffinloneliness.Thesmokeoftrainsandchimneyswasstretchedandtornandbecamepartofthefleecycanopythathungovertheseaandthefields.