Читать книгу Rain On The River - Jim Dodge - Страница 7

Whenever Jason said “beeber” for “beaver”

or “skirl” for “squirrel”

I secretly loved it.

They’re better words:

The busy beeber beebing around;

the grey squirrel’s tail

like a skirl of smoke along a maple branch.

I never told him he was saying

their names “wrong,”

though I did pronounce them conventionally.

One time he noticed, and explained,

“‘Beeber’ is how I say it.”

“Great,” I told him, “whatever

moves you.”

But within a week

he was pronouncing both “properly.”

I did my duty

and I’m sorry.

Farewell Beeber and Skirl.

So much beauty lost to understanding.