after Of Mere Being
Wallace Stevens

the tree and the bird
contrary to biology
yet born in us
rise beyond any intended horizon

the bird sings in the tree
and we are not spirited nor dis-spirited
by the fashioned wind
from its throat

we make studies
and feather our ideas

we figure the measure
and cast the distance
to the tree and the bird

fired artificially
gold wings are an intended rising

to seem born in us

we try to speak about it

imagine those branches moving
as they do move here
in the wind