I hear something shatter

Dreaming love, a day dies – incomplete.
Crows fly away into the black.

Their caws will return
to the familiar morning
of grumbling engines,
bodies swaying to the beat of metro,
memory of cozy beds,
a collective yawn big enough to
swallow Monday mornings.

Good morning love – a day begins. Destiny.
A crow flies away
Struck amnesiac by rays
bouncing off glass towers.

I hear something shatter.


Looking for crows

Morning – hint of fog.

From my balcony, I follow

the areal pointers at large.


Dark caves of the self

glow with a smile and that

spark from a friendly syllable.


Out here wrapped in a strange

blanket of chill, I hope to

be surprised by familiar cawing.


Morning – hint of fog.

From my balcony I follow

The areal pointers at large.