Going In Perfect Time Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Going In Perfect Time
Listening to music, beats keeping time to rhythms
when all of a sudden a black crow comes flying low
in front of me.
Wings flowing in perfect time with the rhythm that
is playing right now.
So perfectly, smoothly, beautifully, landing on the
side of a garbage can looking for food within it.
Finding something, it flies off to rhythms beating
in time behind it's wings in the distance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 8:37:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
