Читать книгу Kindest Regards - Ted Kooser - Страница 40

A Letter

I have tried a dozen ways

to say these things

and have failed: how the moon

with its bruises

climbs branch over branch

through the empty tree;

how the cool November dusk,

like a wind, has blown

these old gray houses up

against the darkness;

and what these things

have come to mean to me

without you. I raked the yard

this morning, and it rained

this afternoon. Tonight,

along the shiny street,

the bags of leaves —

wet-shouldered

but warm in their skins —

are huddled together, close,

so close to life.