Читать книгу Digging for God - Anne Higgins - Страница 10

O You who squeeze the wind

until she howls,

who wring the rain until

she gushes,

send electric waves

rushing through the cord

to jolt the vacuum cleaner

to roaring life,

I praise your power

moving in the homeliest of things.

Roses on couch cushions,

lamp stands, small city gardens,

bath water slipping down the drain,

steel wool scouring egg crust off the iron frying pan.