Mother Earth nurses us.
We live at creation’s breast.
Crow opens a plastic bag for food inside.
Another glides into the lot searching for more.
They stand together at a roof’s verge
Survey the comings and goings in the street.
A man carries a large cardboard box on a black bicycle.
The crows are joined by another pair.
A fifth perches in a nearby tree.
First one then all take to air.
The cloud fingered sky holds their flight
invisibly swirling around their winged bodies.
The wings, the eyes, the dirt full of life
bodies of water, air and emptiness,
consciousness of holy ones
touching spirits and minds
all measures of a loving mystery.