The Crow's song

Today I think I’ll be a crow

and wade, wandering in knee-deep snow

and wait, wondering, for Zephyros

my throat already sore. Cawing,

pruning, filthy threadbare feathers

fearing my beak might freeze together

waiting for some warmer weather’s

herald, since all our friends took wing.

Wearily, wearily, await the sight,

Shivering, shivering, that red on white

Cheerily, cheerily, the steel-gray skies

Seem brittle. I’d sing:

A fanning fire fills my breast

Cheerily, cheerily, and all the rest

My dull eyes scanning, east to west,

Then wearily, wearily falling—

The bright red Robin’s loving wing

In this empty meadow, nowhere seen,

I grip my frozen branch. And wait for Spring.