The Crows
a palindrome, a monometer sonnet, a perfect anagram by line
Deft, I saw
a crow, over us,
a sure vow or caw,
as it fed.
They stop
and perch
atop
the church,
a choir
below
the spire:
The crows.
Each caw
enlists
ten more.
The mist
is grey
as clay.
Winter enfolds varied echoes
in a white or fevered coldness.
A crow flies over tended shine.
The fields are covered in snow….
The Crows is out of print from The Blasted Tree Store
Featured by The Blasted Tree: September 10, 2018
Anthony Etherin
Contributing Author
Other works on The Blasted Tree:
The Crows is a Blasted Tree original suite of poems by Anthony Etherin
Edition of 50 leaflets published in Canada