I can’t shake the image of a crow,
darting through the drizzle that falls from a cloudy sky.
The flock fluttered east-southeast, ragged and restless.
One crow broke away,
flying north.
The power lines were in the way.
And then—
it was gone.
Even if I burned it onto film,
there’s no one I need to show it to.
And yet—
I did.