Flyleaf, Tractatus

I.

A flock of birds down where it’s still,
where, each morning, fishermen throw their nets into the river,

and they flock in the wide fields.
The sky is clearing.

A rising wind.

II.

And downriver

down past the birch and the oak trees
marked by tides and high water

where fishermen bring in their boats
and their nets
from the sea.

*

I want you to have these freshwater shells.
I found them in the rushes
at the mouth of the river

and there were boat moorings and fishing crates

and there were fishermen
emptying their nets in the rain.

III.

A farmer cuts the sweet-grass
before it flowers

and hay dries and birds nest.