CORVUS TRIOLET

Today the yard is full of crows,
their voices ragged scraps of pain,
their blackness stark against the snow.
Today this yard thatís full of crows
reminds me still that grief is slow,
it comes again like a refrain.
Todayís backyard is full of crows,
their caws, their scratchy rasps of pain.

Barbara Crooker
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