When They Too Will Leave

The lions roar to their upland gods,
And I do not feel alright.
I wonder what is alright to believe in even
While the birds sing all of their songs-
All of the swing sets are being taken away,
And maidens swim across the lake-
Where are they going, and what lake is this:
Even so, they look so beautiful even while they
Are leaving.
Replacing them, birds travel in from the north:
They are foreigners to this country,
And they say nothing to the sky- their bodies
Fold up and swim,
Like a new kind of wedding- I hold my breath
And clutch my heart-
A birthday cake waits uphill candleless in
Another empty house,
As I wonder when they too will leave.

by Robert Rorabeck

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