Читать книгу The Absolute, Relatively Inaccessible - Walter Wangerin - Страница 8

1.

The December snows muffle the sounds of human vowels.

The sibilant ice cracks the distance like a rifle shot.

2.

Before we can see the horse-drawn milk wagon

laboring uphill

(“I’ll see it first!”

“Look out for me, Wally,

cause I’m gonna see it first!!”)

Before the mare pulls

the metal, butter-colored wagon

around the corner to our street,