— Tom Rimel
The troubled crow caws and hears no music.
The content crow caws and hears only his voice.
The sublime crow listens and hears in both the same exquisite note.
Dark in the shadow of a monkey puzzle tree
I check three boxes on a form of clouds.
Viewed from earth they may be only
Dead branches shaped like wings
Yet still I hear, must hear a rustling blood alert,
The silent alarm of darting graphite eyes…
And must reply, sound breaching music,
Heart pounding every chord in every key,
The screech when I alight and flutter
Startled safe inside the dazzling calamities of crow.