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Birds Arriving in Dim Light

Birds Arriving in Dim Light Birds Arriving in dim Light _ Maurice Manning Three of them line a branch, as bare as a bone, and pairs and ones arrive and soon the old tree flutters again with living leaves, as if it has remembered how to be a tree, as if it has come back. The birds are reddish gray in the light which is dimming down and a mist of fog is coming up the hollow and soon the top of the tree will disappear and faintly rustle and return for the night and longer to its dream. A man like Sam-Dude Medlock-- dead for God knows how long now-- would have pointed up the tree and said, they's decoration, Honey, and cast an approving nod and an oath, that even an unwashed heathen like himself could see the Lord was a wonder-maker, and it was the stiff-necked Baptists, Honey, who saw the world as plain. Sam-Dude called me, Honey, and he had riddles and saws to impart-- such as, a Stubblefield would tell a lie if the truth was a better story; or one, I've repeated for amusement-- Never trust a Pemberton, Honey-- which I've decided must be wise; he always http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png Appalachian Review University of North Carolina Press

Birds Arriving in Dim Light

Manning, Maurice
Appalachian Review , Volume 40 (4) – Nov 9, 2012
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Publisher
University of North Carolina Press
Copyright
Copyright © Berea College
ISSN
1940-5081
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Abstract

Birds Arriving in dim Light _ Maurice Manning Three of them line a branch, as bare as a bone, and pairs and ones arrive and soon the old tree flutters again with living leaves, as if it has remembered how to be a tree, as if it has come back. The birds are reddish gray in the light which is dimming down and a mist of fog is coming up the hollow and soon the top of the tree will disappear and faintly rustle and return for the night and longer to its dream. A man like Sam-Dude Medlock-- dead for God knows how long now-- would have pointed up the tree and said, they's decoration, Honey, and cast an approving nod and an oath, that even an unwashed heathen like himself could see the Lord was a wonder-maker, and it was the stiff-necked Baptists, Honey, who saw the world as plain. Sam-Dude called me, Honey, and he had riddles and saws to impart-- such as, a Stubblefield would tell a lie if the truth was a better story; or one, I've repeated for amusement-- Never trust a Pemberton, Honey-- which I've decided must be wise; he always

Journal

Appalachian Review – University of North Carolina Press

Published: Nov 9, 2012

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