Crow’s wings

Eagle has scattered

black feathers and scraped bones

all along the trail.

 

Last week she waited

on a low branch, lifted, dropped

Crow’s wings so I’d know.

 

Standing still. Wet snow

falling on my shoulders

like soft footsteps.

 

I’m learning to speak

with breath. Near silent. Somewhere

between wind,  something else

 

and human being.

 

 

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