Are we all to be refugees from liberals? Or displaced
as if we were Palestinian?

Each repeated slur takes its toll and so on to another
landfill (and how the same deserts welcome back
peoples of the book!), but soon there are only dead seas
and scrolls with which to summon memories.

What does the we hold common still? Why can’t it tend
what might still survive of change?

That we is stuck on its first world problems. And yet it is
knee deep in universal corruptions.

Even lichens sign up to solidarity! Standing, the breath
is through ancient examples, the recall of life before leaves.

Frankly, we’re conspicuous by absence when hymn sheets
of nature get passed round, what no closet gift for romanticism
recollected in drizzling brooks. We scarcely need to flee the
boundaries of Cambridge to get our fill of botanical piety – but
...