Amid the winter's biting cold
And the wind's bitter howl
Sat the stalwart crow
A black sentry surveying

From a high wire watch tower

Vigilant eyes peer
Beyond the icicles hanging
Into ice frosted windows
That distort the shadows moving inside

But the black bird sees enough to know

So is now involved
A part of the story being written
On pages with too many contractions
Violations of terms

*And sharp edges, that cut as you try to leave them