Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           Ilistenedtoo,butIcouldn’thearanythingexceptthepoppingofthewindowshade.Ilistenedforalongtime.Then,fromalongwayoff,Iheardahigh,laughinggabble,faintandcomingcloser.Canadahonkersgoingsouthforthewinter.Irememberedallthehuntingandbelly-crawlingI’deverdonetryingtokillahonker,andthatInevergotone.

           ItriedtolookwherethedogwaslookingtoseeifIcouldfindtheflock,butitwastoodark.Thehonkingcamecloserandclosertillitseemedliketheymustbeflyingrightthroughthedorm,rightovermyhead.Thentheycrossedthemoon—ablack,weavingnecklace,drawnintoaVbythatleadgoose.Foraninstantthatleadgoosewasrightinthecenterofthatcircle,biggerthantheothers,ablackcrossopeningandclosing,thenhepulledhisVoutofsightintotheskyoncemore.

           IlistenedtothemfadeawaytillallIcouldhearwasmymemoryofthesound.Thedogcouldstillhearthemalongtimeafterme.Hewasstillstandingwithhispawup;hehadn’tmovedorbarkedwhentheyflewover.Whenhecouldn’thearthemanymoreeither,hecommencedtolopeoffinthedirectiontheyhadgone,towardthehighway,lopingsteadyandsolemnlikehehadanappointment.IheldmybreathandIcouldheartheflapofhisbigpawsonthegrassasheloped;thenIcouldhearacarspeedupoutofaturn.Theheadlightsloomedovertheriseandpeeredaheaddownthehighway.Iwatchedthedogandthecarmakingforthesamespotofpavement.