crows watch and do not watch while flying about their business
which seems to be hunting what might be left
discovering least likely places to find

in London Paris Geneva Venice
they swoop the rooves of trains and strut about
prising what I cannot imagine from cracks and joins

deliberate and workmanlike each serves its craw
able to handle sudden upheaval 
with hop and float

they wear many lifetimes on their glossy backs
loss - a bruise-black memory and consolation - a glinting chance
simple as taking bits the eye finds hiding

not under the spell of top heavy brain
they hold ancient secrets in their bodies
wind lifts a feather or two / reveals a feeling 

something like knowing how
more like conviction  --
a chance missed / the next one coming

long history of their kind proves this --
would make beaks curl
if beaks could smile 

Poem by Jo Mariner 
Photograph -- "Alps Transformed By Speed" by Jo Mariner