You are my witnesses. I know you well.
You were there from the very start..
You it seems too were composed, like us
Of an energy, the physicists called “dark”
But not the darkness of your velvety wings
Which only you and I are permitted to see,
But a darkness that expands and accelerates
Near the speed of light, binding us together
Into a mutual experience woven through time,
Yet we shall never occupy that exact space
For the theory forbids it, so you too were
Excluded from the calculus of the rational mind,
When you took leave for that mythical domain.
But from the world of clustered Oaks in October
No theory could ever banish your dark shadows
From all the fallow fields the farmers had turned in
To another season, you were always there, as nature’s
Constant witness, giving us not just her cold comforts
But something else, resembling a rough hewn link
Of remote and unfamiliar sorts, unspoken in the caws
Of your natural language, no word or abstract equation
Ever captured the measured determination of your flight,
Nor truly bound, each and all, inseparably too tight,
Like a genie, You escaped, Old Black Crow, all our attempts
To categorize, To classify, To name, How did we miss you?
Old Black Crow, commonly excluded emblem of waking day
Old Black Crow, accursed messenger of humanity’s Hinter-Welt
Old Black Crow, the exposed double image of all that could of been?
Old Black Crow, that symbol near the far side of everyone’s life,
Old Black Crow, where your flocks weave like a painter’s thoughts
One must, only watch your energy, neither creating nor destroying
That perfect equilibrium, balanced somewhere between life and death.
Still, I observe you, Old Black Crow, like nature’s only witness.
I look up, not to observe, nor theorise about the expanding universe
But just to grasp, all the black shadows, with eyes acutely attuned,
And aware, like theirs, of the coming darkness before night-falls.