Winter Crows (For Edgar And Patti) Poem by r james sterzinger

the white geese leave with hope
warmth, congeniality,
of a return to better times.

I use to watch them
flying in v patterns
across the sky
looking for some
eternal brightness
somewhere

my October childhoods
were filled with the marvel
of watching them fly over head
of circling fields
greasing the night air
with their cries
then landing in those same fields
and leaving again in the sunrise
but that is when I was young
and the world, younger still

the Canadian Honkers
here in the cities
hang around for steaming private pools
and hand outs
where is the marvel in that?

Ted Hughes
changed me.

I prefer the winter crows
with the blackening of days
the twilight embracing twilight
the gloom kissing gloom
with the only light
reflections of cold sun
on icy roads
I prefer the crows

they bark at the sky
they curse each other over circumstance
rainbows and snowdrifts
it's all the same to them

they tell me things...
'death itself is a gourmet dinner!
keep the look of acceptance
in your eyes!
go to hidden places to die!
all is not right with the world!
hang on! hang on! expect nothing more...'

so
in winter
while others stake their hopes to Christmas lights
and smiles
or New Year's toasts and a tipsy woman's
kiss, under the mistletoe....
I stake my heart with the heart of a crow's
to survive, to survive, to survive