Keith

THE CROW

A crow distant calls

Beckons to me
Through green walls
But little else stirs;
Perhaps the inner sea
On farther shores
Where dreamers doors
Stand open to the sky.
But here,
Amidst the swathe
Of verdant velvet
My heart rests calm
Unfettered for a while.
At last
A chance to breathe
To breathe in beauty
Bathe in serenity.
Feed upon time
Less ravenously.
And as the crow calls
Time crawls down these valleys
Glides wistfully
Through each wooded gulley
And happily lets me
Stand and gaze
With no one calling to me
But the plaintiff crow.