Watching Like Crow

Fall winds stripped the trees,
their summer finery
burned in wet heaps.

The sun, far south,
burns orange in the roar
of roaming garbage trucks.

I gather myself
with no sight of the sea,
no scent of tide,

watching the town wake
like a rooftop crow,

at peace
above the wandering
and forgotten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Watching Like Crow” with music by Gustav Mahler