Poetry, Photography, New Beginnings
Full Crow Moon
Scribe Writing Prompt — On the Road to Spring
Like ink, they gather on the branches.
Smudges of spring. The Crow Moon rises
tonight. Cacophany. A softening
of earth. A yielding to worms and things
rising through the dark loam of mycelium.
Like old men, they rasp and chatter
and carry on with their complaints.
But they know, those crows, that
hearts so cold with winter’s chill
will blossom with the softer rains,
and breasts will redden and the
moon will wane.
But, for now, she dangles, like one
of those treasured baubles
above the pines. And they gather,
a burst of spattering gossip,
a flap of wings like wet laundry
on a line. Could they snatch it?
That shiny trinket? That vision
rising on a winter evening
as it mellows into spring?