A Private Joy

Crows circle the predawn sky
their flock of dark wings
massing impossible turns
pivoting with the certainty
of a thousand feathers
their delight a private joy
before the city’s demand
in the hour of descent.


3 Responses to “A Private Joy”

  1. Don,
    I share your love for Nature and marvel at your ability to bring it all to life through words.

    Thanks for starting the Poet’s Journal


  2. Bill Dare says:

    Sweet memories, eh Brother.


  3. Sandy Jensen says:

    Oh boy, I LOVE crow and raven poems! This one has all the urban mystery I feel for my neighborhood friends.
    Here’s a crow poem by my husband, just to ad to the conversation.
    Five Black Crows

    As if five black holes fell from the stars
    And landed on our neighbor’s lawn, five crows
    Walk around like police within yellow,
    Crime scene tape and peck to turn over leaves.

    They’re looking for evidence of no-
    thingness, of nada hiding everywhere.
    They’re finding clues to eat, suspects
    To drag off, terrorists to water-board

    Down by the river, reports to scribble in mud,
    And dead to filet with their sideways, black knives.
    They are the cops of entropy, private
    Eyes that prove everything falls apart.

    They know that soon, the galaxy will call
    Them back to chaos inside the dark horizon.

    —Peter Jensen

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