Читать книгу An Indiana Christmas - Bryan Furuness - Страница 19

THE FARM WIFE FINDS GRACE IN HER EMPTY BARN

Shari Wagner

Inside the house, dust is dust,

but here it looks holy, suspended

in slanted light that slips between

boards. Jacob’s ladder could be

rungs to a loft where barn swallows

brush the dark with the curve

of their wings. Every joint is pegged

tight as Noah’s ark, but there’s room

for everyone—nesting sparrows

and mice that scatter from burlap sacks.

When I slide the big door back,

sunlight rushes in to fill the empty bin

where Jesus could be reaching up

to touch black and white faces

gazing down. I like to picture him

swaddled by the breath of cows.