All the morning

Someone said my name in the garden, while I 

Grew smaller in the spreading shadow 

Grew larger by my absence to another,
Grew older among the ants, ancient
under the opening heads of the knowledge flowers,
new to myself, and stranger.
When I heard my name again, it sounded far,
like the name of the child next door, or a favorite cousin visiting for the summer,
while the quiet not thankful seemed my true name, a near and inaudible singing
born of hidden ground.
Quiet to quiet, I called back.
And the birds declared my whereabouts all morning.