One Sad Crow

This is the fourth gray dawn
Since the hours changed their names

I check my pulse
To make sure I’m alive

Thunderbirds Are Go

I do this I do that (good morning, Frank)
I look out the window (good morning, Paul)

      Two white vans with roof racks

      New green     tipping branches
      On the Leaning Tower Of Pine

I must write Beth
To thank her for Jellyfish Bones

I must write Dan
To apologize for letting April slip by

I owe Alan a response to his email
In which he tries to explain
Why I can’t write like Alexander Pope

The sky is white like paper
Upon which someone’s scribbled
One sad crow