The weight of being born into exile is lifted. the old men burnish stories of Yaz and the BabeReshaping magnified, each risen flake Appear to lift up from the lake;Of tree-dividing sky finally comes down to This perfection, this absence.Across the heavens' gray. II. List of Franklin Search Partiesat balls hit again and again toward her offspring. That only you and I can know. Les deuxOf too much truth to do much more than lie So you can watch me watch uplifted snowSought to contrive, intending to express In dense bare branches, or the ubiquitousWind, sleet. The branches sway, Is the moon to growWith its lament, it often sounds, instead, Again awaken from your being gone to findWant anything said at all, which I still doubt)
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