by Changming Yuan, Vancouver, BC
Yes, all crows under the sky are black
But this one in the backyard of your heart
Is as white as a summer cloud
You have fed him with fog and frost
Until his feathers, his flesh
His calls and even his spirit
All turned into white like winter washed
Your crow’s wings will never melt
Even when flying close to the sun
One of my poems was in the April issue of Poetry for the Masses.
Book Aunt is in charge of the Poetry Friday round-up today.