OCR Text |
Show FALSE SPRING after the Chinese 1 Nothing yields to the cold air so much as the new blossoms flaring along the pear trees; when it first stepped out over Blue Acre Pond, a covey of mud ducks flew off in three directions, and the warm earth rose up to meet it with the diffidence of an old man rising to meet a relative he gave up on years before. 2 The full moon bewilders the shoulders of Stone Heart Mountain, and ignites the blossoms in the orchard as they hang, upside down, inside pockets of ice. Small patches of shadow cover our bed as though a limbful of new leaves had blown in through the window. 3 Endless fields of flocked grasses drift in the blowing fog. Already morning is returning through the hills cutting a swath around it, punishing the church bells in the valley-towns before sunrise. |