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