“When You ReturnFallen leaves will climb back into trees.Shards of the shattered vase will riseand reassemble on the table.Plastic raincoats will refoldinto their flat envelopes. The egg,bald yolk and its transparent halo,slide back in the thin, calcium shell.Curses will pour back into mouths,letters un-write themselves, wordssiphoned up into the pen. My gray hairwill darken and become the feathersof a black swan. Bullets will snapback into their chambers, the powdertamped tight in brass casings. Borderswill disappear from maps. Rustrevert to oxygen and time. The firereturn to the log, the log to the tree,the white root curled upin the un-split seed. Birdsong will flyinto the lark’s lungs, answersbecome questions again.When you return, sweaters will unraveland wool grow on the sheep.Rock will go home to mountain, goldto vein. Wine crushed into the grape,oil pressed into the olive. Silk reeled into the spider’s belly. Night mothstucked close into cocoons, ink drainedfrom the indigo tattoo. Diamondswill be returned to coal, coalto rotting ferns, rain to clouds, lightto stars sucked back and backinto one timeless point, the way it wasbefore the world was born,that fresh, that whole, nothingbroken, nothing torn apart.”

− Ellen Bass −