Вино из одуванчиков

           ButLeoAuffmannwasgone,pedalingoffthroughthewarmsummerevening,hisvoicedriftingback."...I’lldoit..."

           "Youknow,"saidTom,inawe,"Ibethewill."

           Watchinghimcyclethebrickstreetsofevening,youcouldseethatLeoAuffmannwasamanwhocoastedalong,enjoyingthewaythethistlestickedinthehotgrasswhenthewindblewlikeafurnace,orthewaytheelectricpowerlinessizzledontherain-wetpoles.Hewasamanwhodidnotsufferbutpleasuredinsleeplessnightsofbroodingonthegreatclockoftheuniverserunningdownorwindingitselfup,whocouldtell?Butmanynights,listening,hedecidedfirstonewayandthentheother...

           Theshocksoflife,hethought,bikingalong,whatwerethey?Gettingborn,growingup,growingold,dying.Notmuchtodoaboutthefirst.But—theotherthree?

           ThewheelsofhisHappinessMachinespunwhirlinggoldenlightspokesalongtheceilingofhishead.Amachine,now,tohelpboyschangefrompeachfuzztobriarbramble,girlsfromtoadstooltonectarine.Andintheyearswhenyourshadowleanedclearacrossthelandasyoulayabednightswithyourheartbeatmountingtothebillions,hisinventionmustletamandrowseeasyinthefallingleavesliketheboysinautumnwho,comfortablystrewninthedrystacks,arecontenttobeapartofthedeathoftheworld...

           "Papa!"

           Hissixchildren,Saul,Marshall,Joseph,Rebecca,Ruth,Naomi,allagesfromfivetofifteen,camerushingacrossthelawntotakehisbike,eachtouchinghimatonce.