Corpus Mundi

Three crows sitting on a winter-ransacked tree
is not just a repeating motif in fables
but in my recent life too.
Corvus eats the Corpus
of the recently passed-on
picked down to the raw bone
so that white doves and civilized Greeks may partake
of polite society.
The cleansing to wipe the slate
and start with a clear conscience
the process of ignoring death.
All over again.
The wisdom of the birds
that once bore the responsibility
of advising Lugh of the Celts
one on each shoulder
the majestic dark-downed ones
users of tools,
and ingenuity,
have no home amongst the innocent.
The omens that they bear unto us,
are merely reflections of our potentialities.