-This poem reflects on a crow balancing atop a weather vane as autumn wind moves across a farm, connecting the bird’s watchful presence with the shifting air, harvested fields, and darkening barn.
A crow descends above the barn
and settles on the weather vane,
its black wings folding into place
beneath a sky washed clear by rain.
The iron arrow turns northwest,
the crow leans with the changing wind,
while maple leaves cross through the yard
and gather by the cattle gate.
Below, the empty hay cart waits,
its wooden bed is filled with rain;
the horses lift their heads at once
when one sharp call cuts through the field.
By dusk, the crow has left the roof,
the barn grows dark beneath the clouds;
the weather vane turns once again,
and points across the harvested rows.