the crow flies, 28/June/17

the crow flew over the graveyard between headstones and raindrops…..
the rain fell persistent…
the crow didn’t seem to notice or care in sleek black graveyard chic gradually blending into a rapidly fading light fed by the cossetting grey seeding an already sodden air…….. surface glistened where streetlight nicked them…… except for the crow unobtrusive and remaining just a shadow wherever where it went with effortless resolve absorbing every stab of light……… the crow left no trail but for its doppler caws soon leaking back into a shaken silence shimmering in its wake, a silence that was there before and soon returns again to impose its mute attention…. little more than dregs, after-sounds, the what-remains, the left-behind abandoned and fending for itself…….
I couldn’t hold the sound however much I tried, imperious and elusive to my hands and ears, however much I’d wanted I couldn’t make them mine, despite the passing impassive crow discarding them so carelessly, breadcrumbs to be eaten by the after-still… impossible to track, impossible to follow……..
… a blackbird spooked and left its voice behind in the ivy growth that clung precipitous to walls, for longer than the crows it hung upon the sodden air til even that soon fell prey to a cemetery silence………

© robert greig 2017


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