Joy To Watch Poem by chris dawson

I joy to watch the ragged crow

Who soars betweens the gusts as though

He cares not where, he minds not when

He tacks upon his course again

As so assured and so aware

He glides amongst the autumn there

He cries his lofty, chilled lament

With dark suggestion, free intent

So independent with distain

He glances back to me again

And off as pointless as he came

Without procedure, without aim

I joy to watch the ragged crow

Without a thought for who's below.