Crow

Screen_shot_2017-12-05_at_08.50.24by Patrick Howse03 Nov 2016

Level with me,
His tree top
Mirrors my perch.

Crow-black polishes
Jet feathers, precision
Beak transformed

From brutal meat
Cleaver to forceps,
Re-placing each filament.

Through autumn denuded
Branches I watch;
Satisfied, he shrugs

And launches himself
Into a wind
Bringing snow.