Why so silent brother crow?
The winter isn’t cold, it’s not too dark
and from roadkill, you’ve grown fat.
Why don’t you caw with joy, my friend?
Your gaze is wiser, worn as snow
as frozen tears or dying windows stark,
but why so hushed as not even cats
can stir you with the fear of death, an end?
Is it darkness dusk, this lack of glow
that choked your voice and quelled your spark
that dulled the gold of life to matte.
Dear crow, rejoice, be glad we’ll mend
cause buds will burst from boughs
the air will swell with songs of cheerful larks.
This gloom will be our verdant habitat
Oh crow, come caw for me, pretend.
January 4, 2021