who watches

sunset rays peck

holes of pale blue, peach 

layers above. 

crows fly, skirting

in the winds of winters

fast moving clouds.

wings outstretched then tucked

silent, as they whizz close

then glide away, in a near miss.

my heart aches, to be /see the last 

watcher on duty, for the slower winged.

the lone dark one,

who waits for the stragglers 

soaring in last light to follow them home.