Вино из одуванчиков

           EvenGrandma,repeatingandrepeatingthefineandgoldenwords,evenastheyweresaidnowinthismomentwhentheflowersweredroppedintothepress,astheywouldberepeatedeverywinterforallthewhitewintersintime.Sayingthemoverandoveronthelips,likeasmile,likeasuddenpatchofsunlightinthedark.

           Dandelionwine.Dandelionwine.Dandelionwine.

           Youdidnothearthemcoming.Youhardlyheardthemgo.Thegrassbentdown,sprangupagain.Theypassedlikecloudshadowsdownhill...theboysofsummer,running.

           Douglas,leftbehind,waslost.Panting,hestoppedbytherimoftheravine,attheedgeofthesoftlyblowingabyss.Here,earsprickedlikeadeer,hesnuffedadangerthatwasoldabillionyearsago.Herethetown,divided,fellawayinhalves.Herecivilizationceased.Herewasonlygrowingearthandamilliondeathsandrebirthseveryhour.

           Andherethepaths,madeoryetunmade,thattoldoftheneedofboystraveling,alwaystraveling,tobemen.

           Douglasturned.Thispathledinagreatdustysnaketotheicehousewherewinterlivedontheyellowdays.Thispathracedfortheblast-furnacesandsofthelakeshoreinJuly.Thistotreeswhereboysmightgrowlikesourandstill-greencrabapples,hidamongleaves.Thistopeachorchard,grapearbor,watermelonslyingliketortoise-shellcatsslumberedbysun.Thatpath,abandoned,butwildlyswiveling,toschool!This,straightasanarrow,toSaturdaycowboymatinees.Andthis,bythecreekwaters,towildernessbeyondtown...