by Ron Czerwien
One crow picks
At a knot of flesh and muscle,
Another in my neighbor’s hickory
Complains, complains, complains. . .
We forget to be astonished.
How else do you explain
Oak leaf shake and shimmer,
Tambourines and hallelujahs
In a late September gust,
Or the evening’s theme song:
A little rain, a little more. . .
Never the same, never the same.
Oh love, forget me often.
-originally appeared in Wisconsin Trails