43,01 €
47,79 €
-10% with code: EXTRA
Pastorals
Pastorals
43,01
47,79 €
  • We will send in 10–14 business days.
By noon, now in mid-September, tall shadows are already looming, dark and melodramatic, striping the lawn and garden. Friendly ghosts remain, but most of the guests have receded, each taking with them a jar of applesauce to taste or inhale and remember. Or to give away. Emptier, the house seems both bigger and smaller. A cycle fills with stillness. Silence grows on the trees. These last mornings I put on the rubber boots I bought at Morrison's Feed Bag, the crimson boots imprinted with yellow c…
47.79
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Pastorals (e-book) (used book) | Rachel Hadas | bookbook.eu

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By noon, now in mid-September, tall shadows are already looming, dark and melodramatic, striping the lawn and garden. Friendly ghosts remain, but most of the guests have receded, each taking with them a jar of applesauce to taste or inhale and remember. Or to give away. Emptier, the house seems both bigger and smaller. A cycle fills with stillness. Silence grows on the trees. These last mornings I put on the rubber boots I bought at Morrison's Feed Bag, the crimson boots imprinted with yellow chickens, and head out across the cold wet spiderweb-spangled grass toward the Duchess tree. "May something always go unharvested," wrote Robert Frost. Almost everything goes unharvested. I pick an apple up and take a bite.

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  • Author: Rachel Hadas
  • Publisher:
  • ISBN-10: 1939574390
  • ISBN-13: 9781939574398
  • Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 1 cm, kieti viršeliai
  • Language: English English

By noon, now in mid-September, tall shadows are already looming, dark and melodramatic, striping the lawn and garden. Friendly ghosts remain, but most of the guests have receded, each taking with them a jar of applesauce to taste or inhale and remember. Or to give away. Emptier, the house seems both bigger and smaller. A cycle fills with stillness. Silence grows on the trees. These last mornings I put on the rubber boots I bought at Morrison's Feed Bag, the crimson boots imprinted with yellow chickens, and head out across the cold wet spiderweb-spangled grass toward the Duchess tree. "May something always go unharvested," wrote Robert Frost. Almost everything goes unharvested. I pick an apple up and take a bite.

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