This morning, a murder

This morning, a murder
of crows puncturing
the dawn, cawing

and bobbing
on bare branches,
alive with alarm,

or exhilaration. How
I envied their full-
throated response to

the call of that moment —
so pure, and sharp,
and temporary —

and how they then
left it wholly
behind, flew gladly —

without one backward
glance — into the
next, unknowable,

while the sun —
having heard their excitement —
could not help but rise.

Tags: creative writing, crows, mindfulness, nature, poem, poetry, presence, spirituality, sun