asking these katsuras one
after one in
a line with their
red-brown buds & naked limbs—
asking these camellias
thronging in a row
leaning scarlet &
blush above the fence rail—
asking these white birches
with their torn pages
fluttering in the air’s
raw exhalations—
asking these five crows
that keep shifting places—
asking infinitesimal rain
where you’ve gone
Jack Hayes
© 2017
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