new year morning octet

(1/28/17)

crows calling & calling to the south—trees rise

into a sky streaked dawn orange & yellow

against gray—guttural, insistent singing:

what they say to each other is different

than what they say to me—another year breaks

with new losses past the power pole’s black line,

the multiple hexagrams branching from trees:

brief silence, then the one crow calling to me