CROW
It’s early in the eve
As I stroll throughout
My raw and windswept yard.
The grass is pallid,
Spring time stiff,
Still sleeping, crunching
Beneath my sneakers.
The Ash is quiet, dormant yet,
No floral beauties
Have come to wake.
But from far above
I can hear the call,
The exploding sound
Of ceaseless life abound.
Brisk in a moving tempest
Of onyx incandescent wings,
Mystical in their flight,
Hypnotic in their dance,
They caw their songs,
As great masters of the sky.
They span the azure fading
Wisps of rose vermillion,
Taking voyage across
The swift arising moon,
To find a place to settle in
Throughout the chilly night.
Honorable Mention, Eye On Life Poetry Contest 2011-2012