Crows are Building Nests of Stones by Stephen Symons

— From Landscapes of Light and Loss

The sky has abandoned itself,
whole cities hum folk songs
of love and war,
the ocean is no longer foamed
with brilliance.

Crows are building nests of stones.
The whales have not returned
so men pace the shore in laceless shoes
and children wander into thorn patches
from houses that have forsaken their curtains.

Every morning, the sun rises
like a blinding coin
and every morning
we shift our beds
to avoid its glare.

We have rediscovered the secret of fire
and slowly,
like a father aging —
fields scab as the earth forgets rain,
the seasons have wasted to heat and bone.
Everywhere skin is flaking to ash.