Crow Poem by D A Phinney

Crow hunches blackly, wetly shivers
Against white winter's frozen grip

And wings forlornly in useless swoops
Across the pasted pallid sky

Searching hopeless, no yellow corn
No red berries, no warm rainbarrel
pool where one might sip

The world's gone white, black speck crow
Remains, in a time of either-or, must
either live or die

No middle ground, no shades of gray,
Black crow, white snow, life locked
into extremes

All choice reduced by Fate's unknowing knife
To two, crow reels like some rummer

Into a ditch, and lies upon the snow
Upon the ice, and hears the water
underneath and dreams

Of green, of grass and warming suns, and
Gentle air and flowers and corn, and
dies in dreams of summer