You could never believe  
it would come to this  
one still morning 
when before you noticed  
the birds already 
were all but gone

even though year upon year  
the rehearsal of it 
must have surprised 
your speechless parents 
and unknown antecedents  
long ago gathered to dust  
and though even the children  
have been taught how to say  
the word withereth

no you were known to be 
 cool and countless 
the bright vision on all  
the green hills 
rippling in unmeasured waves  
through the days in flower

now you are as the fog 
that sifts among you 
gray in the chill daybreak 
the voles scratch the dry earth  
around your roots 
hoping to find something  
before winter 
and when the white air stirs  
you whisper to yourselves  
without expectation 
or the need to know