All day our business carries us past you,
white blaze at the corner of the eye.
Even the hands that pinned you there
have turned for a while to other things.
Still, we should acknowledge
your humility, your readiness
to shape yourselves to our uses.
You remind us of what transpires
while we are elsewhere,
how the shadows of hawks and clouds
conform to the landscape,
how the songbirds’ proofs
fill the silence and fall out of it.
You swing in a sweet wind,
semblance of our bodies,
bright squares sun dried.
In our absence, you try on
the days we have left.
For more information on Russ Kesler, please click here: http://www.public-republic.net/authors/russ-kesler/
Thanks to Alison McGhee for passing on these wonderful poems!
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