Counting Crows
Crow speaks through dawn's fogged windows
uncoffined invocations penetrate
layers of glassed cages ,
listening to the broken silence beckon
the lightened sky from within
drawing cognition from stoic suspended moments
wings uplifted to a higher treetop crown ;
black feathered realms muse ,
reminds what is spoken with familiar voices ,
ofttimes unheard by familiar ears disquiet
at least a thousand frogs report morning mist astir ,
yet cannot mute the echoed news on high
crow recites voices from memory ,
perched upon befogged and lonely treetops ,
where eyes clearly see beyond
Reverently recognizing the realm shared
with nearby broken soul …
Harlon Rivers . . . February 20, 2014
1 comment:
and my heart runs to the window and calls out, " Dad!? Is that YOU?!?" , spirit knowing that God, his friend, has sent a sign of love and understanding. :)
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