Sunlight fills the open valley half a mile away, but here between the rimrocked ridges I sit in windy shadow; half an hour yet to wait on the lava doorstep, while the rain from yesterday’s thundershower drips from gutterless eaves onto my head and book, for the brightness over the dark bulk of the ridge to gather and center into the sun itself.
The big black cattle munch industrious on rain-gift grass just outside the wooden fence around the house. A peacock pulls his poor, slattern tail along through molting August, pride reduced to sapphire head and rajah's crest and the brassy, meowing, melancholy jungle cry.引自第213页The daily hummingbird assaults existence with improbability. He is drawn to my orange tea mug.
The big black heavy cattle munch and breathe and gaze, each with its following of small black birds. All living things work hard to make their living.
I sit on the rough black steps and try to tell the secret that they keep. But I cannot.
They keep it.引自第214页
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