Feathers replace leaves
In the naked trees
Looming above Genesee Street,
As flocks of crows arrive to
Take their repose and roost for the night,
The clumps of birds stretching for blocks,
A curtain of black set against
The landscape bleached white by
Fresh-fallen snow and layers of rock salt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem