Yet the wisteria, in this garden also
The wisteria is anything but gone
There is a stillness today
Not a breath of breeze; the winds
Are they gone, are the winds gone
Are they gone for good
Pigeons coo; I am reminded
Of late Saturday afternoons
Out by the farmers hayloft
With Colin and Lawrence
The Tinker brothers
Waiting for their birds
To return home from France
Are their dream birds gone
Is all hope of the birds return gone
Is that sense of reference gone too
I count seven layers of detail
Between the window to
Where the land meets the sky
Cars, almost on the final line
Travel to and from the places
That surely they must go
Sure you say, it is evidently so
It would suit me to sit here all day
Time for the book and pencil
Yet the day ahead is stencilled
Where the land meets the sky
I may gaze out of the meeting room window
Hear the rumble of aeroplanes destination bound
I might even lose my concentration
Settle this one time for unconditional ground
