A Murder of Crows

A raucous flock circles above
my writing house, then disappears
as quickly as it came.

Their noise gone, the sky quieted,
they having announced what
they came to announce, I couldn’t

grasp the meaning of the caws
but the sense was oracular:
I got that. The sense of foreboding

I understood. How much time?
remains unanswered, the directive
to focus in each moment

as it turns to the next,
filling it with small works
well and completely done.

One thought on “A Murder of Crows

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