Bird Watching

By Roy Doughty
Written 5/16/06

Two shiny crows on a shiny lawn, spaced
Far apart, walking, searching the landscape
Of this particular angle of the sun
By which the morning’s light makes of the sum
Of colors shades of gold.  If the crows are night’s
Ambassadors, do they bring to this first light
Tidbits of dream, wherein another landscape
Is recalled, one where the map is sketchy,
And explorers disappear, or if they
Return, they return with the blankest eyes,
Possessed of a talisman of strange size
And shape, engraved with indecipherable
Figurations?  The crows know the lawn is full
Of nourishment, and that night survives
The coming of the sun.

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