part that gives what is left 
away. As if released, 
                                     a stone—as from 
a sling. The landscape opening as if no end to it, 
a longing anywhere 
                                 for some resistance, some 
stop: the magnolia, its ring of bird-ravaged 
                       the birds themselves, a wind lifting 
a collar of feathers at the neck of each—stiff 
                     Elizabethan. Clarity, versus 
           Fine distinctions. 
                                           Not, it seems, 
the cries of joy. Not punishment—think 
in terms of, instead, 
                                       persuasion. Silo, through which 
the rains, passing, 
                                   pass unimpeded. Hunger 
versus the pursuit of it. That’s what they say. 
With time, with wear, 
                                          the leather softening. They say 
the legs go here. The straps adjust. 
                                                                Like so.