Читать книгу No Gathering In of this Incense - Mark Rhoads - Страница 10

I would step into the wooden boat

pull up the near shore of the Pend Oreille

along the marshes with the white stumps

of trees that once stood on drier ground

but had succumbed to the water’s inundation

now perches for water birds and crows

resting from flight or warily watching my alien work

and if not on the river hike high up the hill

overlooking the big bend where the river turns east

to a side hill clearing logged of its fir

where a large rock clings suggesting a place to sit

and look down the valley

almost to the old Diamond Match mill at Cusick

and brood in the style of a 19th century novel

forgetting the trivialities of model airplanes

or my collection of stamps deliberations

I set aside for the pew and the pastor’s sermon