Here it comes:

The sound of the Crow

In the depths, not to know 

 

(below of torso)

 

In the dreary Autumn light:

September evening

Came the feeling, of nothing

 

Hollow as a graveyard nested in a wood:

The reaps of a livelihood

Had not yet bore, such glory awaiting

 

At his feet:

Soiled and frayed

Yet remaining, distanced and unafraid

 

He stayed:

Laughing and running misty rain

Up the yellow hillside, into the forest

 

~ G McK

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