
They end their flight
one by one–
crows at dusk
–Buson

Shape-shifting in the gap,
the border of the map a light
of shadowing, not quite
prepared to reunite the tide
with ebb and flow implied
by intervals inside of time,
the pause between the line,
the missing paradigm unfilled,
the end of something. Stilled.
Continue reading: February 2017: Crows, Tides, Time
