 |
Poem taken from:
Museum Crows by Ron Houchin
Poem of the Week
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Winter cast by Ron Houchin
Crows in the city mourn
under a forecast of rain.
Even this one, in rearview, flipping
a colourful candy wrapper over
on a vacant lot, turns
into a tall lady in black hat and coat,
opening her funereal purse for a mint
or stick of gum while waiting
for the limousine. Details of rain trap
in the mesh of her veil like sorrow
in a tired heart.
Everything about
crows among concrete, asphalt, and sleet
suggests a black and grey memory.
Under the silent eaves of the public
library, a fat one caws flensing
light from the bones of day.
Once in the dull air,
it drifts toward graves.
Between
the flapping omen and the strutting past
come the landing, the smoke and snow
among tall stones, drab cloud,
the loose feather frozen in numb light.
Copyright © Ron Houchin 2009
