When their multitudes of affliction may better serve
a second earth
The weeping cherry seems less romantic, now,
having blossomed tiny handkerchiefs
and cast them down—
it belongs to the realm of barn-born kings and the first
born sons of Herod
(whose springs were silenced underground).
It seems this world is moving on, so that the first
word is not, finally, spoken, but
stays on the palate—
as the sparrow stays among the palmetto fronds.
or having any thought we think it should—
but warbling in ways we
have not known.