Narcissus Stares at the Sun, Loses Sight of It

Know? I know. 
That's why I said
all that snow.

Each crow stows
shining understanding
in a secret place.

Give that crow grace
and it will offer you
a feather and a feast
of metal weather.

The rain shines 
with possibility,
the way I do,
as a sun,

photosynthesizing
anything comprising
my prized map,
my knowns.