ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 7
WINTER CROWS HOUSE SILENCE
winter gnawing on bones
its breath a fog
shaking its hard wet fists
the ten thousand crows
of the high ground
speak all at once of their misery
my house is surrounded with mirrors
the trees are hung with frost
when the sun can shine
there is twice the shining
if I stay in place long enough
the new neighbors will say
I am a stranger to them
the crows will speak of me
as of a familiar comfort
but to those who can't understand
their speaking is as good as silence