Вино из одуванчиков

           Hemadeiteasierbylaughingathisowndeclarationsjustsooften. Helikedtolistentothesilence,hesaid,ifsilencecouldbelistenedto,for,hewenton,inthatsilenceyoucouldhearwildflowerpollensiftingdownthebee-friedair,byGod,thebee-friedair! Listen! thewaterfallofbirdsongbeyondthosetrees! 

           Now,thoughtDouglas,hereitcomes! Running! Idon’tseeit! Running! Almostonme! 

           "Foxgrapes!"saidFather. "We’reinluck,lookhere!" 

           Don’t! Douglasgasped. 

           ButTomandDadbentdowntoshovetheirhandsdeepinrattlingbush. Thespellwasshattered. Theterribleprowler,themagnificentrunner,theleaper,theshakerofsouls,vanished. 

           Douglas,lostandempty,felltohisknees. Hesawhisfingerssinkthroughgreenshadowandcomeforthstainedwithsuchcolorthatitseemedhehadsomehowcuttheforestanddelvedhishandintheopenwound. 

           "Lunchtime,boys! 

           Withbucketshalfburdenedwithfoxgrapesandwildstrawberries, followedbybeeswhichwere,nomore,noless,saidFather,theworldhummingunderitsbreath,theysatonagreen-mossedlog,chewingsandwichesandtryingtolistentotheforestthesamewayFatherdid. DouglasfeltDadwatchinghim,quietlyamused. Dadstartedtosaysomethingthathadcrossedhismind,butinsteadtriedanotherbiteofsandwichandmusedoverit.