crows
long and slender
pencil thin
fly over my rooftop
and unfold again.
as they dive
remaining entwined,
their wings
brush the early branches
of spring.
mountains of pink smoke
above peppered black murder
give this mourning
a terminating glow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, you write extremely well for somone so young. I love reading poetry with such a fresh outlook to it. Very clean lines, sharp images, excellent poem, Jesse. Good work!