Declension

STEPHEN SANDY

DECLENSION

In the chorus of memories a blessing in disguise.

The birds and the trees are satisfied. If these

Appear to grow smaller with distance how

Tell of the particulate the towering

Matter of the pine, its needles, or its osprey

Waiting magnanimous upon the sun

You saw from the curl of the bend back-rising there?

The tree, its mossed feet, the mane green:

Manor for whom, for what? The bird, or song

You had to ignore, heading on. A death?

Not knowing, you ignored the tree, the osprey.

What is not yours is that beyond the time

You do; or might be; or, "once upon a time... .".

Spare, untouchable, the river bank. And there

White water, phrasing, races past you, back.

Particular roadside pines, converging walls

Backing the head-to vanishing point. A sense

Of acrid pine musk that might have been there lingers,

Remembered. The graceful ornaments linger on

And overwhelm.

How then will you get on

To what you know, as you must? The eggshell

On the garden path; the tanager's intent

In tapering branches? All this is what is not

For you, and the words rise outward toward your smile.