Waking up to bird song in the morning, With a memory of names lost to not Attending enough to this world that Is contained in itself, and happens to Contain him always. Once he was given Vocabulary to point to creatures Of leaf and wing, to take them in Through language, and so accommodate Himself in a house that is landscape.

So to be rendered homeless again, Or even worse to be exiled is to have lost The language to name the signs that sing: Violet crocuses – first letters of spring, Star magnolias teething white, the blood Of Judas trees awakening, and the wake Of Canada geese honking north to home.