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"
Where
?
What
?
"
"
Went
right
past
the
tree
there
and
into
our
yard
.
"
"
What
was
it
,
Mary
?
Tell
me
!
What
did
you
see
?
"
In
the
dusk
I
saw
her
smile
,
that
incredible
female
smile
.
It
is
called
wisdom
but
it
isn
’
t
that
but
rather
an
understanding
that
makes
wisdom
unnecessary
.
"
You
didn
’
t
see
anything
,
Mary
.
"
"
I
saw
a
quarrel
—
but
it
got
away
.
"
I
put
my
arm
about
her
and
turned
her
.
"
Let
’
s
go
around
the
block
before
we
go
in
.
"
We
strolled
in
the
tunnel
of
the
night
and
we
didn
’
t
speak
again
,
or
need
to
.
As
a
child
I
hunted
and
killed
small
creatures
with
energy
and
joy
.
Rabbits
and
squirrels
,
small
birds
,
and
later
ducks
and
wild
geese
came
crashing
down
,
rumpled
distortions
of
bone
and
blood
and
fur
and
feathers
.
There
was
a
savage
creativeness
about
it
without
hatred
or
rancor
or
guilt
.
The
war
retired
my
appetite
for
destruction
;
perhaps
I
was
like
a
child
overindulged
in
sweets
.
A
shotgun
’
s
blast
was
no
longer
a
shout
of
fierce
happiness
.
In
this
first
spring
a
bouncing
pair
of
rabbits
paid
daily
visits
to
our
garden
.
They
loved
best
my
Mary
’
s
carnations
,
ate
them
down
to
raw
crowns
.
