Читать книгу The Glass Constellation - Arthur Sze - Страница 32

The gate was unlocked. We drove to the road’s end; grapefruit lay on the ground not far from a white house whose window caught a glare. December 29, four p.m. At first we couldn’t find the trail but walked ahead and crossed a river full of black boulders. Days earlier, we had looked down into the valley from a kukui grove. There was speckled bark, slanting rain, horses in a field, drenching rain. We had been walking back from the ocean where we moved from rock to rock and saw black crabs scuttling along the tide line. We looked into the water, saw sea cucumbers on rocks. On the way back, white lepiotas among grass and a small white puffball. I sliced open the puffball, but it was olive-green. Deer, crossing the road, stopped near the fence line and gazed back at us. I inhaled the aroma of shredded ginger and saw three pairs of dragonflies overhead, their wings catching daylight. Where is the one inside the many? Or are there many inside one? We came to a fork in the trail and noticed an exposed root growing across the right branch. We twisted left and glimpsed twin waterfalls; wild boar were stunned in our headlights. In the twilight, we came to another stream with white water rushing across black boulders and paused:

raindrops

dropping off the eaves

stop dropping