Fire

她听着他的隆隆的车轮声向着罗斯曼桥的方向逐渐杳然。她开始在脑海里翻腾叶芝的一首诗：“我我走进榛树林，因为我心中有一团火……”她表达这首诗的方式介于教学和恳求之间。

他把车停在离桥很远的地方，这样就不会妨碍他的构图。他从座位后面的小空间里拿出一双齐膝高的胶靴，坐在踏板上解开皮靴的鞋带，穿上另一双。一个有两根带子的背包背在双肩，他用皮带把三脚架挎在左肩上，右手拎着另一个背包，沿着陡峭的河岸向小溪走去。

She listened as the sound of his wheels faded toward Roseman Bridge. And she began to roll  words over in her mind from the Yeats Poem:"I went out to the hazel wood, because a fire was in my head……" Her rendering of it fell somewhere between that of teacher and supplicant

He parked the truck well back from the bridge, so it wouldn't interfere with his compositions. From the small space behind the seat, he took a kneel-high pair of rubber boots , sitting on the running board to unlace his leather ones and pull on the other ones. One knapsack with straps over both shoulders, tripod slung over his left shoulder by its leather strap, the other knapsack in his right hand, he worked his way down the steep bank toward the stream.