An Old Crow

 

A blooming rhododendron 

An old crow's smile

Me with wet hair 

Walking down my road

Knowing a road may never be owned 

Property, illusion 

An old crow is its own master 

I sigh knowing there is nothing to take dominion over

In this passion play

An old crow's age

My endearing steps

Unknowing destination 

Black eyes that have always known

A lover in Spring 

Que Llueva

Everything sings

My ears are eager, honest students

An exercise in feeling without touch

Ancient ruins all over the world are laughing in a language 

That I am slowly learning

In the center of my bed

I ask for a clarifying dream

Que llueva 

Ring of protection 

Flowing river of time

Fruit of the tree

You beckon me forward