Crows assemble in the bare elm above our house.
Restless, staring: like souls
who want back in life.
—And who wouldn’t want again
the hot bath after hard work,
with soft canyons of splitting foam;
or the glass of spring water
cold at the mouth?
To be startled by beauty—drops of bright
blood on the snow.
To be radiant.
All morning the crows watch me in the garden
putting in the early onions.
Their bodies look oiled.
Back in, back in,
they shake the wooden rattles.
Copyright © 2020 by Jenny George. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 19, 2020 by the Academy of American Poets.
About this Poem
“What can we see about life when looking back at it from the perimeter of lived experience? When the dead observe us, what do they notice? What do they desire?”
Jenny George is the author of The Dream of Reason (Copper Canyon Press, 2018).
Date Published: 2020-03-19
Source URL: https://poets.org/poem/migration-1