Читать книгу White Nights in Split Town City - Annie DeWitt - Страница 5

I wonder, now, only when it will happen,

when the young mother will hear the

noise like somebody’s pressure cooker

down the block, going off. She’ll go out into the yard

holding her small daughter in her arms,

and there, above the end of the street, in the

air above the line of trees,

she will see it rising, lifting up

over our horizon, the upper rim of the

gold ball, large as a giant

planet starting to lift up over ours.

She will be standing there in the yard holding her daughter,

looking at it rise and glow and blossom and rise,

and the child will open her arms to it,

it will look so beautiful.

—“When” by Sharon Olds