When Elephants Last in the Dooryard Bloomed. Ray Bradbury

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СКАЧАТЬ that tree. Why, why, I thought, my God,

      It’s not so high. Why did I shriek?

      It can’t be more than fifteen feet above. I’ll climb it handily.

      And did.

      And squatted like an aging ape alone and thanking God

      That no one saw this ancient man at antics

      Clutched grotesquely to the bole.

      But then, ah God, what awe.

      The squirrel’s hole and long-lost nest were there.

      I lay upon the limb a long while, thinking.

      I drank in all the leaves and clouds and weathers

      Going by as mindless

      As the days.

      What, what, what if? I thought. But no. Some forty years beyond!

      The note I’d put? It’s surely stolen off by now.

      A boy or screech-owl’s pilfered, read, and tattered it.

      It’s scattered to the lake like pollen, chestnut leaf

      Or smoke of dandelion that breaks along the wind of time …

      No. No.

      I put my hand into the nest. I dug my fingers deep.

      Nothing. And still more nothing. Yet digging further

      I brought forth:

      The note.

      Like mothwings neatly powdered on themselves, and folded close

      It had survived. No rains had touched, no sunlight bleached

      Its stuff. It lay upon my palm. I knew its look:

      Ruled paper from an old Sioux Indian Head scribble writing book.

      What, what, oh, what had I put there in words

      So many years ago?

      I opened it. For now I had to know.

      I opened it, and wept. I clung then to the tree

      And let the tears flow out and down my chin.

      Dear boy, strange child, who must have known the years

      And reckoned time and smelled sweet death from flowers

      In the far churchyard.

      It was a message to the future, to myself.

      Knowing one day I must arrive, come, seek, return.

      From the young one to the old. From the me that was small

      And fresh to the me that was large and no longer new.

      What did it say that made me weep?

      I remember you.

      I remember you.

Pretend at Being Blind, Which Calls Truth Near

      The backyard of my mind is filled this summer morning

      With a soft and humming tide

      The gentle glide and simmer, the frail tremoring

      Of wings invisible which pause upon the air,

      Subside, then come again at merest whisper

      To the lip of flower, to the edge of wonder;

      They do not tear asunder, their purpose simple

      Is to waken me to wander without looking

      Never thinking only feeling;

      Thoughts can come long after breakfast.…

      Now’s the time to press the air apart

      And stand submerged by pollen siftings

      And the driftings of those oiled and soundless wings

      Which scribble waves of ink and water

      Flourished eye-wink fluttering and scurry

      Paradox of poise and hurry,

      Standing still while spun-wound-bursting to depart,

      Swift migrations of the heart of universe

      Which surfs the wind and pulses awe;

      Thirsting bird or artful thought the same,

      Sight, not staring, wins the game,

      Touch but do not trap things with the eyes,

      Glance off, encouraging surprise;

      Doing and being … these the true twins of eternal seeing.

      Thinking comes later.

      For now, balance at the equator of morn’s midnight

      With wordless welcome, beckon in the days

      But shout not, nor make motion,

      Tremble not the sea nor ocean of being

      Where thoughts in rounded flight fast-fleeing

      Stone-pebble-skip

      Across the surface of calm mind;

      Pretend at being blind which calls truth near …

      Until the hummingbirds,

      The hummingbirds,

      The humming-

      -birds

      Ten billion gyroscopes,

      Swoop in to touch,

      Spin,

      Whisper,

      Balance,

      Sweet migrations of gossip in each ear.

The Boys Across the Street Are Driving My Young Daughter Mad

      The boys across the street are driving my young daughter mad.

      The СКАЧАТЬ