The Harbringer

From a bare branch
The crow took wing,
Black and fringed
Against a sullen sky.

A few beats into
Its oared flight, two
Harassers appeared—
Their dark bodies intent
On driving the Harbringer
Back to its perched murder,
its rightful place.

Relentlessly, they dove
At its head,
One peeling away as the other
Came in
With the bravery and insanity
That must be had
When everything is at stake
And nothing else can matter.


-Patricia Thrushart
www.thewatershedjournal.org/

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