Draft of Untitled Poem (becuase titles are Nemesis)

lone swan searches the brackish swamp
lost from a garden, or zoo, or home
unpaired and exiled in any case
mossy brick under your feet
bark of pine gone black in rain
small buds on everything
four sprigs of new mint
syncopated birdsong of blackbird, robin, lark, starling
flying the longer light,
planting of the new dogwood,
feeding it coffee grounds saved all winter,
the murmuring of parents voices
as they shape the day, the year, their life together
on incremental shifts and steady undercurrent
burn-smoke of old grass, blackened out for new,
all the gradual, eternal cycle and variation
sap raining from the ice-wounded trees,
bent in german expressionist angles
by a hurricane of cold
clotting up the capillaries of boreals
securing them against infection
the calm acknowledgement
of connection and limit
and longing-for like moss under feet
a reminder: you are not abandoned of life
you are not broken
you are