The Crow sat at my window
And chastised me until I rose.
She flipped and flew ever higher,
Tipping her wings in a wave.
Dipping and cawing
And swallowing the air with her grace.
I leaned in closer to get my baring
Shielding my eyes from the sun.
Watching her carry on
Stretching and looping
Undeterred by time and space.
Eyes on the world, wings outstretched.
Spanning the gentle curve of loneliness
A branch, a prance, a pause.
Cosmic and unmoved.
A journey to gravity’s hard embrace.
Fallen and immobile beneath the oak.
Shotgun gust of feathered flight
Motionless amongst a bed of leaves
Cracked and varied
A haven of orange downy beneath her face.
Silent still the strangled world
Light trickling through the injured air.
Eerily abandoned beneath the oak
Fanning the dark reproduction
Of my own disgrace.