Вино из одуванчиков

           Downstairs,shethought,theyarepolishingthesilver,andrummagingthecellar,anddustinginthehalls.Shecouldhearthemlivingallthroughthehouse.

           "It’sallright,"whisperedGreat-grandma,asthedreamfloatedher."Likeeverythingelseinthislife,it’sfitting."

           Andtheseamovedherbackdowntheshore.

           "Aghost!"CriedTom

           "No,"saidavoice."Justme."

           Theghastlylightflowedintothedarkapple-scentedbedroom.Aquart-sizeMasonjar,seeminglysuspendeduponspace,flickeredmanytwilight-coloredflakesoflightonandoff.InthispallidilluminationDouglas’seyesshonepaleandsolemn.Hewassotanhisfaceandhandsweredissolvedindarknessandhisnightgownseemedadisembodiedspirit.

           "Mygosh!"hissedTom."Twodozen,threedozenfireflies!"

           "Shh,forcry-yi!"

           "Whatyougot’emfor?"

           "Wegotcaughtreadingnightswithflashlightsunderoursheets,right?So,nobody’llsuspectanoldjaroffireflies;folks’llthinkit’sjustanightmuseum."

           "Doug,you’reagenius!"

           ButDougdidnotanswer.Verygravelyheplacedtheintermittentlysignalinglightsourceuponthenighttableandpickeduphispencilandbegantowritelargeandlongonhistablet.Withthefirefliesburning,dying,burning,dying,andhiseyesglintingwiththreedozenfugitivebitsofpalegreencolor,heblockprintedfortenandthentwentyminutes,aligningandrealigning,writingandrewritingthefactsthathehadgatheredalltooswiftlyduringtheseason.