Вершы. Родныя мясціны-25

 

                                                                                                         Аляксей Якімовіч

Маміна хусцінка

 

Халадок у хату зайшоў.

                                                         Коле душу льдзінка.

                                                         Яе растапіла

                                                         Маміна хусцінка.

 

                                                         Белая хусцінка

                                                         З кветкамі чырвонымі.

                                                         Мама ўзімку вышывала

                                                         Ніткамі шаўковымі.

 

                                                         Заплюшчваю вочы.

                                                         Паплыла хусцінка,

                                                         Нібы незвычайная,

                                                         Лёгкая пярынка.

 

                                                         Як жыццё вясковае,

                                                         Плыве, праплывае,

                                                         Думкі мітуслівыя

                                                         У цішы наганяе.

 

                                                         Праплываюць хата,

                                                         Вішня, агародчык.

                                                         Мне здалося на хвілінку:

                                                         Не стары я, хлопчык.

 

                                                         Іду каля мамы,

                                                         Ведаю: не здрадзіць.

                                                         А калі стамлюся,

                                                         Нешта мне парадзіць.

 

                                                         Над вясковай вуліцай

                                                         Сонца шар узыходзіць.

                                                         Вясковая вуліца

                                                         Многіх у свет выводзіць.

 

                                                         І мяне выводзіла.

                                                         Мама адпраўляла.

                                                         У хусцінцы белай

                                                         На ганачку стаяла.

 

                                                         Маміну хусцінку

                                                         Бачу прад сабою.

                                                         Хачу дакрануцца

                                                         Да яе рукою.

                                                                       2025 год

 

                                                                                        Аляксей Якімовіч

Вязём сена

 

Сонца льецца з вышыні,

                                                    Грэе мае плечы.

                                                    Разышлося сёння,

                                                    Дыхае, як з печы.

 

                                                    Я ляжу на сене.

                                                    Сена цэлы воз.

                                                    Яно твар казыча

                                                    І кірпаты нос.

 

                                                    Каля воза бацька

                                                    З лейцамі ў руках.

                                                    Каня падганяе,

                                                    Наганяе страх.

 

                                                    Конік не баіцца,

                                                    Круціць галавой.

                                                    Ведае, што бацька

                                                    Для яго як свой.

 

                                                    Лежачы на сене,

                                                    Кратаю травінкі.

                                                    А з неба спускаюцца

                                                    Аж дзве аблачынкі.

 

                                                   І яны на сене

                                                   Хочуць адпачыць.

                                                   Спусцяцца і лягуць,

                                                   Не будуць прасіць.

 

                                                  Ветрык не дазволіў.

                                                  Падхапіў, панёс.

                                                  На дарозе соннай

                                                  Калышацца воз.

 

                                                  Нібыта ў калысцы,

                                                  Ён мяне люляе.

                                                  Жаўручок маленькі

                                                  Нас дагнаў, спявае.

 

                                                   Летам пахне сена.

                                                   Плыве бухматы воз.

                                                   Побач каласіцца

                                                   Вусаты пан – авёс.

                                                                    2025 год

 

                                                                                                          Аляксей Якімовіч

Як спарышы

 

Я прыехаў у вёску.

                                                            Ці прывеціць мяне?

                                                            Ці засвеціць агеньчык,

                                                            Як калісьці ў акне?

 

                                                            У акне нашай хаты,

                                                            Дзе сямейкай жылі.

                                                            Мне не верыцца сёння,

                                                            Калі чую былі.

 

                                                            Вуліца знаёмая

                                                            Да рэчачкі вядзе.

                                                            Сонечныя іскаркі

                                                            Скачуць па вадзе.

 

                                                            Скачуць разам з хвалькамі.

                                                            Вецярок спрыяе:

                                                            Як чародку гусянят,

                                                            На бераг выганяе.

 

                                                            Набягаюць хвалькі,

                                                            Песцяць беражок.

                                                            Сыплюць цуда-жменькамі

                                                            Жоўценькі пясок.

 

                                                            Кнігаўка чубатая

                                                            Ляціць над вадой,

                                                            Рэхам пакідае

                                                            Голас за сабой.

 

                                                            Луг зялёны сцелецца.

                                                            Вокам не абняць.

                                                            Кветкі на сцяблінках

                                                            Цягнуцца, глядзяць.

 

                                                            Хмаркі імі цешацца,

                                                            Дружненька плывуць,

                                                             Коўдру незвычайную

                                                             У паднябессі ткуць.

 

                                                             Лес стаіць удалечы,

                                                             Задумлівы, густы.

                                                             Крышачку адбегліся

                                                             Ад яго кусты.

 

                                                             Мабыць, паспрачаліся

                                                             З калючымі ялінкамі.

                                                             У роспачы махаюць

                                                             Тонкімі галінкамі.

 

                                                             На вёску азіраюся.

                                                             Цяплее на душы.

                                                             Вымаўляю ціха:

                                                             -- Мы як спарышы.

                                                                                     2025 год