the crows were calling around me to white air
I could hear their wings dripping and hear small birds with
  lights
 breaking in their tongues the cold soaked through me I
  was able
after that morning to believe stories that once
 would have been closed to me I saw a carriage go under
the oaks there in full day and vanish I watched animals there
 I sat with friends in the shade they have all disappeared
most of the stories have to do with vanishing