Crow-Level Concerns

Am I warmed up enough
to see the breeze through 
the eyes of the leaves?

Sift with me
the murals and their birds
both defiant in their wordlessness
failing the test of birdlessness.

Paint painted these histories.
Fish, oh fish,
you taught me to 
tie the seven-looped hook-

knot and watch the braid
brisk down into not-so-
clear water. That may be

this day's air.
Without my child my charge,
I do not care.