Crows call counterpoint
Wind chimes deep and high
Blows rain from the sea
All the way to Canterbury.
Moss dots the tile roof
Past this rainspotted pane
And horses wear black jackets
Against October rain.
Smoothing the air into oaks
They have business, these crows
Returning to grey skies
Acorns in their beaks.
So do we have work to do
The work of love and laughter
Waits for our hearts and hands
And we go happily to it.
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