Thursday, February 15, 2007

As The Crow Flies

They take to flight
at dawns first light
as though the bright redemption might
disable their
command of air
to ground them here without a prayer,
while christening the snow encrusted town
with fluffy trinkets of the blackest down
which flutter in a howling winter wind
that further revolutions will rescind.
Mired in this never ending drift
I quickly grasp the beauty of their gift.

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