Old Crow
I look on, agape, as hushed footsteps, deliberate, fall
Each one, prudently placed, along the length of your wall
There's solace, in your silence, dignity, in serving your call
Some would call you "old crow", some, "a raven, that's all"...
But I know, the divinity of your nature, ebony, winged beast
Why the noblest of reason, forever mutes your screams
Your respect for loves, and lives lost, even of the very least
Even the swingset, and bicycle, seemingly grieve
Your gaze unflinchingly locks, on the glowing rise in the east
And the babes, though unwilling, once again, take their leave
No comments:
Post a Comment