Awake during the day, midnight black
crows chatter incessantly,
on a platform of generations
that hope for a destinations of beauty, though fleeting.
Human insecurity, masked, purposefully
they ignore the crow, left to wallow
in self pity – the sun irritates a gloomy mood.
I might be a crow too –
performing expected motions of the day,
over looked, I long for the silence of night,
When a solution may appear,
and finally, I might feel comfortable
with the crows.
– L.J. Lenehan –