Black Birds
When the crows comeblack against the darkening skytheir wings obscure the sunand small sounds drownin their strident caws. They storm the walnut treesnatch the green fruitdrop it from great heightsretrieve the cracked kernels.
Again and again they diveFrom tree to groundfeathers gleamingwhere stray sunrays touch.And when the mountains turn bluewith the haze of eveningthe crows lift off in ebony formationhead toward some secret roostwhere they blend into the night.Lisl auf der Heide
