crow country

As I was writing this the electricity jumped to a stop. Then it drained from the machines, a siren in reverse. Then-suddenly- the caw of a crow, cracking the silence, startled into awareness, and other birds, as if from a distant past.

Someone sent me this..I don't know the original (forgive me!) but only hear its echo rising through the descending fog.

In the silent courtyard of my home, a crow cawed
Then the sweet rain fell and I remembered you.

--Nasir Kazmi

The birds carry the memory of the stars with them in the morning light. 

Someone is sweeping the leaves in brisk, short movements of his brush. Inside, a janitor cleans the floor with his mop in wide, unnecessarily expansive sweeping movements (when you think he should follow a figure 'eight'). Perhaps his mind is wandering as he works. The movement of my own hands tentative, as the light returns and things find their shape again. My heart rests in silent forms, remembers the words not spoken.