Here, your remains
will stay in this ground
and for those displaced
Here, from the stews,
your wings fold
over the little ones
from the rookeries.
Here, we will always
for your flowers
under the held stars.
At dawn, while the city was rising,
a dream of fog fell on the Common,
draped the lake, clouded pathways.
Trees rode the waves,
and everything was taken to a new plane
while I was inspirited and shoreless.
But walking led me to an understanding
when I saw that joy could set in water
and melt instantly
under the sun.
That I could leave, an apparition
never seen, heard of or a part
of this terrain.