Crow Songs
Everything is lifting upward:
robins to branches,
crow to treetop,
distant plane to wispy clouds.
Two crows locate a small gray hawk
in a maze of gray branches.
But their angry calls soon taper off,
and they sit silently under a gray sky.
Crow perches
on a sunny lamp post
scattering blackbirds
in drizzle and mist
noon’s light glances blue
off the flying crow
Almost hovering
by a palm tree, crow
with a twig for its nest.
a vast cold sky
the stubble field
feeds one crow
between cat’s-eye and rumble-strip
crow keeps coming back
in rhythm
with the radio - the swagger
of a crow
Come crow and save us from a world without shadows,
white as a motel towel, a rented room,
the coats of orderlies in a home for the insane.
a crow caws, outside me inside me
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Forgotten Works and Splintersound posted with permission.
Line breaks in the first Oversouled poem and the two by Morning Porch added by me.
