I had received a missive
Or two like this in my lifetime already
Delivered on the beaten wings
Of a crow that disappeared into the night.
All night and the next day
And the following night and
The day after that I searched for that crow
Ambling over once verdant fields
Now turned brown and coarse
With the advent of winter
And subsisting on gorse
Only to find her perched in the ribcage
Of a winter-hungry tree of unknown species in my backyard
One tear and one tear only rolling down her cheek
Reflecting the tumbling world loosened from its axis.
I was here all along, you said,
Dropping the pen from your wing.