To a Black Crow

White snow
Does not silence the ringing
Of echoing church bells

To a black crow
Surveying the scene
Little black ants
Crawl out of a church
March across the brilliant
White snow
Carrying between them
Thin wood

To a black crow
The ants bury their wood
Beneath the snow

To a black crow
The ground rises
The ants become people
The wood becomes a coffin
But there is no difference between
Ants and people
To a black crow






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