She's stopped in her southern tracks br Brought haply to this hard knock br When she shoots from the tall spruce br And snaps her neck on the glass. br br From the fall grass I gather her br And give her to my silent children br Who give her a decent burial br Under the dogwood in the garden. br br They lay their gifs in the grave: br Matches, a clothes-peg, a coin; br Fire paper for her, sprinkle her br With water, fold earth over her. br br She is out of her element forever br Who was air's high-spirited daughter; br What guardian wings can I conjure br Over my own young, their migrations? br br The children retreat indoors. br Shadows flicker in the tall spruce. br Small birds flicker like shadows-- br Ghosts come nest in my branches.