One crow weaves among
The drizzle-wetted pine trunks
In gray morning light.
One crow weaves among
The drizzle-wetted pine trunks
In gray morning light.
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.
Crow: neck bowed over,
Wingtips hunched, claws extended,
Drops onto the branch.
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 day so dense and still
The sky might burst with thunder
The crows scream No! No!
With a snap of flag, white caps
march across the water.
Outside the window,
roof perched,
crow spreads morning headlines.
Good morning all!
