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and see how the crow flies

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And see how the crow flies,
Slow overhead
Bright wings unshadowed,
Though heavy as lead.

Stretching his poor wings,
One beat by two,
Torn muscles pulsing,
Broken for you.

Stung by the salt sea,
Struck by the sun,
He flies ever higher,
Beholden to one.

And still his intention,
Lies lifetimes ahead,
Yet fly does the crow fly,
Slow overhead.



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silentpeacock said...
Jan. 5, 2012 at 5:40 pm:
omg i love it. i could totally see this in a book by edgar allen poe or or robert frost. it flows very nicely. keep writing :*)
 
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