When winter descends
The somber-veteraned crows
Do not fear the cold
Undisturbed by gust
Nor gale, the well-entrenched crows
Stare down the north wind
While thirsty birds wail
For winter’s cruel frozen joke
The crows drink the snow
When others quiver
And curse, the crows swish and swoop
Without a shiver
Hopping and cackling
For a winter breadcrumb’s joy
Like a royal feast
In dead of winter
When all else is white as bones
Still the crows are black
Perching on ice-sheets
The crows hold silent vigil
For the coming thaw
Rotting Silver is a column devoted to this Earth in all its tarnished radiance: poetry, prose, and parables of ugliness alloyed with joy.
This piece was first published at The Witch’s Voice.
B. T. Newberg: Since the year 2000, B. T. has been practicing meditation and ritual from a naturalistic perspective. He currently volunteers as Education Director for the Spiritual Naturalist Society, where he is creating an online course in naturalistic spirituality. His writings can also be found at Patheos and Pagan Square, as well as right here at HP.
Professionally, he teaches English as a Second Language. After living in Minnesota, England, Malaysia, Japan, and South Korea, He currently resides in St Paul, Minnesota, with his wife and cat.
After founding HumanisticPaganism.com in 2011 and serving as managing editor till 2013, he now serves as advising editor, and feels blessed to be a part of this community.
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