“A Last Look” by W.S. Merwin

Even the words are going somewhere urban
where they hope to find friends
waiting for them

some of the friends will think of trees as pleasant in a minor way
much alike after all
to us

some of the friends will never be aware of a single tree
they will live in a world without a leaf
where the rain is misfortune

all the languages until now have flowed
from leaf to leaf
and have gone like faces

gone like the stone porches of small houses
and the smell of the forest
in the water of summer