Night

Old poem
New soundcloud verbal poetry

A crow is flying by

and caws the little edges off the day

in evening away.

Night is crawling black from tree to tree,

his limit is the shadow

his nest is down the grave.

A crow is flying by

and caws the rest of sleep

into so wide awake.

The dark is mirroring fear

in open and behind the sleepy eyes

until in the morning

with the first crowing

the ghosts are gone again.

© Rudi J.P. Lejaeghere