Don’t Give Me That Look; Dubitable Crow, poetry

crow 4

 

 

 

 

 

Seashores drew me in angered tempest

Winds bitter in easterly coming

Clouds hung in blackened resignation

Shredded conveyance, impending storm

My footsteps hastened, miserable cold

Numbing torrents of wind-driven rains

And there on the sands you boldly stood

Defiantly staring, menacing

 

The look in your cold and blackened eyes

Steeled in darkness, dubitable crow

Spare me the look of indignation

Moody insolence contemptible

My footsteps, trudging, on boardwalk past

Your dodgy examine and chiding

Bent to the winds of your solitude

In the darkness of day confiding

 

© Don MacIver 2013; All Rights Reserved

 

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