christmas crows

Christmas crows

quick black shadows
pass by the skylight;
hints of yesterday
peeling away,
to a pale grey sky beneath,
left wanting, heavy
with the promise
of questions.

the skylight shivers,
condensation bone white,
and silvered with an impression
of brittle winter trees.

i slide down low.
past chances
blown, seeds sown,
at flounder,
as i go below.
the quick black shadows
high on the wing.

this Christmas,
there is no snow.
for this is the year,
of the Christmas crow.

as the quick, black shadows
return,
to take me low.