Keep It

To where will the momentum go
As this city rusts and slows
And native ferns reclaim sacred ground
Displacing traces of vanished tenants
Will it flow down the Willamette
To the Colombia and out to sea
Or grind it’s way to the heart of Hood
Or sink below silt and pines
Napping before its next millennia

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Give Me the Splendid Silent Sun”)