Of Leaves and Crows

The wind and rain of this past week have stripped trees bare

But here and there

Dull yellow leaves retain a tenuous grip

And crows,

Themselves a stark punctuation,

Perch high in newly naked branches,

A position best for them to see

Winters inevitable “Land-ho!”

And me – sailing by

More confined on my grey ocean,

Clouds dark, nearing, stacking overhead

Numerous as the worries filling me with dread.

And I long

Just for a moment

As leaves fall and crows fly

For these fractured thoughts to release, fall and find

A fertile place to die

And for my black-hearted Kyrie prayers

To soar toward cloud-break

And answers I cannot yet see.

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Writer. Pastor's wife. Almost-empty-nester with one teenager and two married daughters. Nana to five grandsons and a granddaughter. Love coffee, a good book, plenty of shoes, and a plethora of desserts, in no particular order.

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