Читать книгу Habitation of Wonder - Abigail Carroll - Страница 9

And so it is, the lake is calling you,

dropping in your ear the small consonants

of its lapping. There is no resisting.

It insists on shivering water into light.

You have beheld this silver before.

In dreams, it’s the radiance you wear.

The jangle of shroud against mast:

a language you have come to understand.

It has let you in on its secret. So too

has the dark slipping by of the cormorant.

Soft, the verbiage of a passing

kayak, the lisp of the paddle’s dip and rise,

the narrow body’s thin blue glide.

A word has perched on your tongue, but

refuses to be formed, tastes like

storm-rinsed sky, the wind-downed

rhetoric of pines imitating the slow dance

of waves. Acquainted with all manner of

waiting, the dock grows patient

with your sitting, your staring, your curious

forward-leaning. Listen: water

tapping, pulling at the hull, the metal siding

on the plank-wood pier. It circles out

from your dangling ankles, a shimmering

map of echoes, farther, farther—one

rippled articulation after another. The lake

is a mirror, a question you cannot answer—

yet one you choose to enter.