Black Birds
When the crows come
black against the darkening sky
their wings obscure the sun
and small sounds drown
in their strident caws.
They storm the walnut tree
snatch the green fruit
drop it from great heights
retrieve the cracked kernels.
Again and again they dive
From tree to ground
feathers gleaming
where stray sunrays touch.
And when the mountains turn blue
with the haze of evening
the crows lift off in ebony formation
head toward some secret roost
where they blend into the night.
Lisl auf der Heide
