Crow’s Call — A Poem

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“Crow” — C.Birde, 8/19

 

Forlorn pulse

of sound,

two notes —

alone —

on repeat loop,

struck against

a summer sky,

gray and weighted

with rain

unshed.

I carry –

close,

close

crescent slips

of your dark

new moon

song.

Oh,

lonesome crow,

I hear

you.

 

— C.Birde, 8/19

 

2 thoughts on “Crow’s Call — A Poem

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