Crows On A Rainy Night

Crows On A Rainy Morning

 

It’s a rainy morning

since you’ve been gone,

the grey consumes and I just moan.

Crows visit and circle my home

with their mocking caw, caw

cawing me, calling me,

while pecking my eyes, reminding me I’m alone.

They gather on the Juniper,

on my clothes line tearing the shirts of mine

you always wore,

offering me dropped black feathers

to build a dream catcher

so I can relive all the nightmares

of losing you.

 

Mornings use to be alive with the scent of you,

singing our old songs as you dressed for the day

while I made us coffee, strong,

rich and dark, the way you liked it

and we would sit under the oak

down by the stream.

But first, always first

we faced in all directions one by one

giving thanks to the rising sun,

to Grandmother for another day,

to Grandfather’s balance.

On most days we listened to the river

singing songs to the trees,

hear strange tales of deer playing tag with

wildflowers and dandelion.

Sometimes the old back bear would come by

showing her cubs how to fish.

I will remember these days,

hold them to my heart.

They were days made by you,

by your touch on my face

as you leaned into me,

by your sandalwood scent.

 

Now, years later, it is a cold,

rainy morning as the grey consumes me

to its moan.

 

Aztec Warrior/redzone  9.28.16   

Author's Note

....thanks for reading....

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is desperately sad in its inflection...and i love the idea of the Rainy Morn...as the poem moves on the speaker can't...it's all memories...and the grey morn lasts an eternity...

[redzone]

I think you always remember some things Jacob,,, thanks you so much for your words on this poem, they are always appreciated and welcomed..