10,000 Crows

— Chelsea Jennings

river of birds in a river of blue       tearing the edges of clouds

with minor violence they drag down the dusk       each with a piece
of dark in its beak

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evenings they come here to lose their sense of direction
to wheel without formation       fluster the willows       disorient the wind

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crows brighten by blackening       until the day comes untethered
until they set their shadows down

there’s a glint on the underside of everything


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