there is nothing like it

There is nothing like a crow flying

Against a pale blue dawn sky,

That blueyellowwhite canvas –

Inky feathered brushes combing its distinction.

And there is nothing like the morning crescent moon

Low, forty-five degrees above the tip

Of a cedar, exquisite composition.

The asymmetry! I say, but it’s the

Astonishing lack, without design

Or beyond it, that makes it heartwrenching

And perfect.

Like these bits of myself and eras,

The caverns and peaks.

All this perhapsandstartling

Beauty,

as it is.