A Poem About Crows And Momentary Importance

The crows are
Playing are fighting dancing
In among the
Rolled up heaves of dirt
Hollowed tubes of
Cement. They are building Something there
And the cars are heatlike blurs
As they pass. It is too warm, the men
Are not working to-day.
They are
Crows. Much too
Ragged to be Blackbirds, dusty
Like the constructions site.
Two crows becoming
More, falling in air
Over one another 'till more
Crows become two and
Two become one Thing
Of ragged
Dusty black that is
Much more than black.

They are on the telephone wires
Now, seizing the electrical inexplicably human
Words of love and
Other conversations. Momentary
Flickers of
Importance.
The crows
Believe they are and no different than the dusty black words
That are much more
Than black