The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change in mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
“Dust of Snow” by Robert Frost [w/ Audio]
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on the hillside,
amid the wildflowers,
watching clouds shape-shift.

a cloud of pigeons
wheels about in a broad loop;
a thin batch returns.

the tree’s trunk
engulfed by vines & leaves, though
little light shines through

frenetic fly,
spastically flying loops:
lands from whence it flew.