Crows Know the Hour of Prayer


Jewniquely Myself

 

crows know the hour of prayer

I hear them gather each morning

just above my open window

I wrap myself in fringes

they stand ready in burnished black

and together we open our throats

I seek the heights of Spirit

then fold my tent of Meeting

and move into my day

they soar into the heavens

flit between treetop and roof

observant and open to All that is

crows know the hour of prayer

and when we meet again at twilight

maybe they will teach me to fly

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