The Crow's Nest

The crow came soon
To rest among feathers—
Cool to the claw,
Warm on the wing.

The crow did not know
How long it had been,
Since this downy bed
Tucked another bird
In the soft grasp of spring.

For all the crow cared,
It may well have taken
Nine beaks to build the nest,
But it was of no consequence.

When a lonely crow
Measures the black stars
Against a glass sky,
Nothing can safely pass
Between night and sleep.