The Crows of Shepton

 The crows are coming round again

And I'm sitting on the bower

The knives are drawn behind our backs

But the parliament's in power

A murder is a ripening

The time is coming soon

But who knows death

Is a harbinger bird

Who's crying out at the moon

I held a leaf

Like telephone

A nautilus shell alone

I talked to the sea

And my mother was there

In spirit but not in the bone

The flesh of the fish

Jesus was a skipping stone

He stepped so fast and far

It seemed

But then sunk when I got home

When I think of Jesus

He is a promise I have to keep

He is the others in the meeting

Who face me, lay their bets

That life is at stake

Will you take the wager?

The older you get the more you must play

But the higher becomes the ante

You need to join in or else you have lost

You must join before it's too late

The crows still sit on the rooftop

Crows are so human I think

When night closes in they want

The company, of another shoulder

next to them,

Another body, in a group

I don't know what it is about sharing

But you must speak to unburden yourself

A trouble shared is a trouble halved

But that is not even what it's about

It's about building a community

A communion of voices and spirits

Who see in each other similarities

Like the flap of a wing or a preening with beaks

The crows have flown off now at nightfall

To the safety of their treetops or chimney pots

Humans are much like crows I think

We each need our gatherings around

hot spots

Candles, or fires or sunsets

Company at the dying of the light

Courage in togetherness

Serenity in the night

Wisdom to let the day breathe

And let a new dawn bring a

new hope and fresh flight or fight