with dark embroidery
and drops the last stitch in the trees
we
the crows and I
see the world how we see
from the vantage point of the clouds
not of those below
we know what few know
to be black
but not to be bleak nor tired
to wing and dream soaring high
if I were a crow
I'd always have family
and a shelter where I might go
welcome wouldn't just be a word written on a mat
its in the way
of the crow
November 28 2022 6:40pm time and date stamped for draft
legal copyright for this poem
and for this writer Melissa A. Howells
and for this legally copyrighted and registered site title
Meloo straight from her tilt-a-world.
1/9/2023 re-edited for clarity of metaphor and thought
Legal copyright 1/92023 4:01PM PST time and date stamped.
