Вино из одуванчиков

           Intheporchswingbesidehim,Lena’suneasysilencewasanopinion.

           Silentnow,too,headback,helistenedtotheelmleavesabovehissinginthewind.

           Don’tforget,hetoldhimself,thatsound,too,mustbeinthemachine.

           Aminutelatertheporchswing,theporch,stoodemptyinthedark.

           Grandfathersmiledinhissleep.

           Feelingthesmileandwonderingwhyitwasthere,heawoke.Helayquietlylistening,andthesmilewasexplained.

           Forheheardasoundwhichwasfarmoreimportantthanbirdsortherustleofnewleaves.Onceeachyearhewokethiswayandlaywaitingforthesoundwhichmeantthatsummerhadofficiallybegun.Anditbeganonamorningsuchasthiswhenaboarder,anephew,acousin,asonoragrandsoncameoutonthelawnbelowandmovedinconsecutivelysmallerquadranglesnorthandeastandsouthandwestwithaclatterofrotatingmetalthroughthesweetsummergrass.Cloverblossoms,thefewunharvesteddandelionfires,ante,sticks,pebbles,remnantsoflastyear’sJulyFourthsquibsandpunks,butpredominantlycleargreen,afountleapedupfromthechatteringmower.Acoolsoftfount;Grandfatherimagineditticklinghislegs,sprayinghiswarmface,fillinghisnostrilswiththetimelessscentofanewseasonbegun,withthepromisethat,yes,we’llallliveanothertwelvemonths.

           Godblessthelawnmower,hethought.WhowasthefoolwhomadeJanuaryfirstNewYear’sDayNo,theyshouldsetamantowatchthegrassesacrossamillionIllinois,Ohio,andIowalawns,