Daily Migration of Crow

Each and every dusk

you draw near as you can

to the end-of-day hejira.

The last hunt behind

them, the crenellated arrow

forms, lifts, points west

scribing the irised haze.

You want to believe they            

never go to sleep hungry.

And if they do, that any ache

is dispersed through the flock

in equal, painless slivers,

prolonging their heat

for daybreak’s commute

into the sun.

Their evening song tells you

such equanimity is not merely

possible. That without it,

the roost of thousands would

perish in the frost. The last two

stragglers tailing the squadron

are irreplaceable in the necessity.

NatureWriting.com, 28 August, 2017