With winter’s gift of unimpeded sight,

I watch crows circle a dark carcass
a hundred yards off through the woods.
Only this white backdrop could make
bearable, the way the elements
have chosen whatever’s returned
as offering to the wheel. In spring
or summer we’ll come across its bones
under new growth of grass, bleached
white as stars that filter light
all this way through nets of trees.

Luisa Igloria
12.16.2010

Borrowing lines from the Morning Porch entry for December 13.

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4 Comments


  1. Thank you, all… As I said to Dave recently, I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner: i.e. use his Morning Porch sightings as triggers for poems. They make lovely triggers.

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