Old Crow

Old Crow

Old Crow in the snow

sits upon the bough.

Old Crow in the snow

Only thinks of now

Winter comes

And Winter goes

And soon will come again

For passing fast 

Are the lives 

Of fragile little men

So in the snow 

The old Crow

Watches from the height

Not for him their to and fro

But only seeking light

With his caw

Will come the thaw

Then spring will fill the lands

And green and bright 

Will be the trees

And warm will be my hands

Then bough will break 

And he will take 

To flight and soar away 

Until the cold 

Returns to hold

Again its frozen sway

But for now 

Upon the bough

Sits the ancient Crow

All robed in black 

He feels no lack

But only falling snow

So I must be 

Just like he

And put my thoughts away

That long for when 

And yearn for then

But never settled lay

So be instead 

By old Crow led

Who sits upon the bough

And feel the snow 

Upon my head

And only think of now