i still find feathers, less and less these days
but i still find them
in places i don’t expect
the crow hopped down from my bookshelf
and said it was time to leave
despite my worries, i knew he was right
i said “i’m not done grieving yet”
“of course you’re not” he said
“but that’s never why i was here”
“grief is a lifelong project”
“it’s the dark clouds on the horizon”
“but hopelessness is temporary”
“and that’s why i was here”
he hopped back through the cat flap
and he thanked them on the way out
i followed him into the garden
into the last warm days of october
i closed my eyes
and listened to the birds
and their strange jagged wisdom
and when i opened them again
the crow was gone
the year of the crow is over
thank you friend, for everything
so listen to the birds
and take pity on those
who have learnt to speak to them
because they’re still finding feathers
and they will be forever