I am crow.
Crow I see.
Black, my colour for Swan to greet.
I am swan. With Crow I see.
White is my colour, for tears to weep
in a river-weed tangle around my beak.
I am the river. With Swan I hold
secrets, to carry and tell to the sea,
where the song of the deep will know the truth,
seen in the eyes of peacock, blue.
I am peacock, a rainbow frieze
of beauty and love and broken dreams.
With phoenix I walk to the setting sun,
the night will soon be overcome.
I am Phoenix. In flames I tread.
From ashes I rise with a golden egg.
Crow wants to know what I can see.
I am Crow. Crow is me.
Masked Native 
This is beautiful….and crisp, like the quick turn of a crow’s neck as it looks down at you.
…Whatever I perceive in my awareness, I can be sure that there is another awareness perceiving me….
Thank you!
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Thank you for visiting my blog and your comment on ‘Crow’. The poem has changed shape many times while I tried to get it just right, and of course, it never will be ‘just right’, that would be too static for crow.
I like your perception of being aware and being observed in awareness. Thank you.
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