How to Past Comes Back

Like shadow across a stone,

gradually–

the name it darkens;

as one enters the world

through language–

like a child learning to speak

then naming

everything; as

flower

,

the neglected hydrangea

endlessly blossoming–

year after year

each bloom a blue refrain; as

the syllables of birdcall

coalescing in the trees,

repeating

a single word:

forgets;

as the dead bird's bright signature–

days after you buried it–

a single red feather

on the window glass

in the middle of your reflection.