Ragged Crow [poem]

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ragged_crow

tree branch fingers
reach out to
the naked sky
with bent witchy
endofwinter
withered woodness;
they poke the wings
of the ragged crow
as slowly he floats
b y
the lake which
feeds the ground
which
frees the trees
which
find the dawn
which
bathes the fingers
in something
for which
there is no
other word
than

l i g h t…

o r

incandescence
luminosity
phosphorescence
dawn ferocity

o r

(if metaphors float
your framework boat)
Aufklärung
Anschauung
images of Spring
the twigs of wood
in nestbound beaks
which ragged crows do bring

I gaze into that sky
aglow
he glances at my face
below
upward-looking
wide-eyed
free
he notices my bended knee
a sign that I come reverently
into his sojourn’s sphere

That ragged crow
flies straight and true
just as I
in my heart
do
to
you

© 2011 Alan Morrison

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