Sonnets

A Crow

A crow, sitting quietly in the shade
of a tall tree, has me thinking about
the silence of the sun, as I listen
to the dripping of my sweat. It is hot.

A crow, sitting in a tree, is a cave
within which burns a mysterious light.
And after looking into that strange place
I spread out upon the heat -- I take flight

searching for a coolness in memory.
I remember the unfolding flowers
savoring the melting snow and I long
for that sweet feeling, for my first hours.

I recall a crow sitting on a branch
and the cool silence woven out of birch.