A Poem

Walking from the Barn

At the pasture’s distant edge,
Spines of twisted trees, branches
Knitting the waning gray lightfall sky.
My breath vapors form clouds
In the air smelling of snow.

Crows, in curved flight, caw
Their roosting hour notes,
Rising as if released from
Sheet music uplifted on wings.

Aroused, sniffing in circles,
The dog barks at scents
Along a rutted path, then
Follows me toward the flowering
House lights finding the dark.

Entering the mudroom,
With the swish of coat sleeves,
I inhale the warmth of floral bread,
And hear the tea kettle's whispers.

In the kitchen's luminous light,
You turn with a receiving smile,
Leaving me in the wonder of our years.
And I come to you as your timid suitor
Choosing again whom I chose before.


Notes:

The roosting hour is 45-60 minutes before sunset when crows return to their communal dwelling area.

Crows have distinct patterns and timing in communication, including coos, rattles, clicks, grunts, and the familiar caws. The structural patterns can be compared to the notes and rhythms found in musical instrument arrangements.

Crows mate for life.

Walking from the Barn © 2025 Charles van Heck
Photograph: Old Barn © 2025 Charles van Heck




One response to “A Poem”

  1. Splendid Charles.  And it reminds me about the migratory pattern of crows and starlings locally.  I once had a client involved

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