Something To Declare

 

They have never had a war big enough

 to slow that pulse in the earth under

 our path near that old river.

 Even as a swallow swims through the air

 a certain day skips and returns, hungry for

the feel and lift of the time passed by.

 That was the place where I lived awhile

 dragging a wing, and the spin of the world

 started its tilt into where it is now.

 They say that history is going on somewhere.

 They say it won’t stop. I have held

 one picture still for a long time and waited.

 This is only a little report floated

 into the slow current so the wind will know

 which way to come if it wants to find me. 

 --William Stafford