morning
and two crows chat on the field
listening carefully to eachother
and nodding in agreement
I stand on the edge
of crow world
where crows deftly bustle about their business
with a confidence of knowing who they are.
a confidence of self.
crow-self
crow
the meat eater
the tool user
the plan maker
the bolshy creature
the strong beaked
the loud mouthed
the watcher
the messy home maker
the communicator

from his skeletal perch
storm crow watches the stars fall.
he has seen this before, and knows
he will see it again

he sees patterns as they fall
he sees them weave together in the wind
like flocks of birds
before binding silently
to become part of the whole

his body becomes a bold silhouette

time is coming soon now, when storm crow will say to sky
it's time, to transform into a pregnant belly of ice
and shower us with your featherlight  star crystals 

storm crow inspects his territory, solemnly
places his nest in the fingers of a skeletal tree

sky has been imagining slow swirling star patterns