The Statue Garden The storks are shaking the dust from their wings They were stuck so long, preening, Their stiff necks bent towards the sky And cracks run up the sides of the lion As its limbs grind against its body Until the stone falls away in chunks That litter the soft grass And are ground again into the dirt Like a city disappears into the desert While the deer jump suddenly from the fountain While the lion leaps into a hedge-shadow And the storks hop and flap and are gone
