Ivy
The throats of the trees
choked by ivy
still sing
with birds, hidden,
who bide
their time, midnight
sending them silent.
The chickens who once
woke me early
have strayed far
from this yard
into a sky they
& I
only dreamt of—
the stove calls us
like the quiet
of this place, the graves
awaiting names.
—Kevin Young
—found in Stones: Poems (2021)