Page 109
IN ANOTHER TIME
(After Liu Yong)
I remember the woods
we discovered and the birds
we’d never seen before.
Sunlight drifted through
the trees like silken ash,
then settled where
blue flowers stirred.
We gazed at life through
a suddenly opened door.
Yesterday I walked there.
Nothing of the past remains,
except a tree or two.
The birds have long left
those broken branches.
They’re a tangled blur,
and though they survive,
they’re clearly dying.
Perhaps they always were.