I look forward to each of her books. Autumn One night goes on longer than the rest, never so long, whiles away. Then dawn Goodbye, insects. Hollow casings on the windowsill, a dainty leg among the spice jars. Goodbye, marigolds, the earth will not wait for you.
Trains hurtle by at the edge of cities, the taste of bourbon, a mouthful of leaves.
Above everyone's dining-table, a chandelier burns. Now the luxurious old wine can be uncorked, the slicing of meat and bread, uncorked, and the black pane of life goes on. Reprinted by permission of the author.