PAUL DIEHL
Crows


spiral up, unbroken beak, eye, wing, whirring

into invisibility. At sunset their legion pours from rivers,
fens, fields, summoned by what I feel but cannot see.
They keep rising; great, desperate circles, darkness

calling darkness, darkness calling darkness.

PAUL DIEHL

This poem was selected for the 2012 Poetry in Public project, sponsored by the Iowa City Public Art Program. Poetry in Public displays poems by local writers of all ages in Iowa City buses, downtown kiosks, and select public buildings from April (National Poetry Month) through the fall.

This page was first displayed
on September 20, 2012

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