.....

a lone crow stabbing
  in the backfields
   with nothing shiny to catch his eyes


          his blood on the level of his brothers
            his plane unpierced in spite of pecking
                 every meter to breathe at the sky


     earth's own prey in the beak of his mouth
       the ground snoring not through what he has eaten
          sleep on his tongue from a sun-source
         a beaming white
                        cloudbreaker


    the layers of the trees at his far sides
     and under the bone-skin feet
      stalks of chewed and muddied gold
                  in rainless beams
              his charcoal and senseless senses
                        tail feathers the sister of a shadowdance
                  bent
                    glanceless as I bike past