Вітер у вербах

           Closeagainstthewhiteblindhungabird-cage,clearlysilhouetted,everywire,perch,andappurtenancedistinctandrecognisable,eventoyesterday’sdull-edgedlumpofsugar.Onthemiddleperchthefluffyoccupant,headtuckedwellintofeathers,seemedsoneartothemastobeeasilystroked,hadtheytried;eventhedelicatetipsofhisplumped-outplumagepencilledplainlyontheilluminatedscreen.Astheylooked,thesleepylittlefellowstirreduneasily,woke,shookhimself,andraisedhishead.Theycouldseethegapeofhistinybeakasheyawnedinaboredsortofway,lookedround,andthensettledhisheadintohisbackagain,whiletheruffledfeathersgraduallysubsidedintoperfectstillness.Thenagustofbitterwindtooktheminthebackoftheneck,asmallstingoffrozensleetontheskinwokethemasfromadream,andtheyknewtheirtoestobecoldandtheirlegstired,andtheirownhomedistantawearyway.

           Oncebeyondthevillage,wherethecottagesceasedabruptly,oneithersideoftheroadtheycouldsmellthroughthedarknessthefriendlyfieldsagain;andtheybracedthemselvesforthelastlongstretch,thehomestretch,thestretchthatweknowisboundtoend,sometime,intherattleofthedoor-latch,thesuddenfirelight,andthesightoffamiliarthingsgreetingusaslong-absenttravellersfromfarover-sea.Theyploddedalongsteadilyandsilently,eachofthemthinkinghisownthoughts.