Вино из одуванчиков

           Fromdew-soddenforestanddellsandrollinghillswheredogstiltedheadstomoons,fromallaroundthegreatsilencewassuckedintoonecenter,andtheywerethecoreofit.Intensecondsnow,somethingwouldhappen,somethingwouldhappen.Thecricketskepttheirtruce,thestarsweresolowhecouldalmostbrushthetinsel.Therewereswarmsofthem,hotandsharp.

           Growing,growing,thesilence.Growing,growing,thetenseness.Oh,itwassodark,sofarawayfromeverything.Oh,God!

           Andthen,waywayoffacrosstheravine:

           "Okay,Mom!Coming,Mother!"

           Andagain:"Hi,Mom!Coming,Mom!"

           Andthenthequickscutteringoftennisshoespaddingdownthroughthepitoftheravineasthreekidscamedashing,giggling.HisbrotherDouglas,ChuckWoodman,andJohnHuff.Running,giggling...

           Thestarssuckeduplikethestungantennaeoftenmillionsnails.

           Thecricketssang!

           Thedarknesspulledback,startled,shocked,angry.Pulledback,losingitsappetiteatbeingsorudelyinterruptedasitpreparedtofeed.Asthedarkretreatedlikeawaveontheshore,threechildrenpiledoutofit,laughing.

           "Hi,Mom!Hi,Tom!Hey!"

           ItsmelledlikeDouglas,allright.Sweatandgrassandtheodoroftreesandbranchesandthecreekabouthim.