Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 19

A hummingbird alights on a lilac branch

and stills the mind. A million monarchs

may die in a frost? I follow the wave

of blooming in the yard: from iris to

wild rose to dianthus to poppy to lobelia

to hollyhock. You may find a wave in

a black-headed grosbeak singing from a cottonwood

or in listening to a cricket at dusk.

I inhale the smell of your hair and see

the cloud of ink a cuttlefish releases in water.

You may find a wave in a smoked and

flattened pig’s head at a Chengdu market,

or in the diamond pulse of a butterfly.

I may find it pulling yarn out of an indigo vat

for the twentieth time, watching the yarn

turn dark, darker in air. I find it

with my hand along the curve of your waist,

sensing in slow seconds the tilt of the Milky Way.