short story
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After Nathan Ballingrud
He did not look like a man who would change her life or three men lying in what will someday be the morning before going to work or kissing silence the pristine clarity of purposeful breathing of dogs straining against the hiss of runners the opalescent arc of long imagined reunions with god’s joy leaking…
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‘The Thinking Machines of Tomorrow’ W.S. Merwin
from The New Yorker, November 29, 1969
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The most beautiful sentence I’ve ever read.
“It was hot, the flies were persistent and teasing, and it was pleasant to reflect that it would soon be evening.”
wikipoem.org 