I've freed birds caught in traps
small hearts all
a rumble. "All cry," the crows

say, black and blue and bittenó
their confessions come now
to tribunal.

I've carried lilacs through rain
broken their branches and hoped
they would not wither. And now I watch

starlings on the wire
one by one drop into unknown
shelter.

As clouds darken down
another notch, the smell
of ferns seeps into me.

A day to stroll into,
to measure shadows,
to measure light, and it's only
after night falls that I understand.

The fern uncurls,
the rain still on its leaves,
as if wanting to throw
itself away in summer.