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