Steven Schroeder | crows
grazing in an expanse of grass beside a dead tree shaped to bring a twisted human hand pointing toward the sky to mind, a murder disregards the sign.
crows never forget they can fly. they live on air even when they are still, standing on solid ground.
they wonder why we bend under the weight of a world we only think we carry.
it rises with us like a bird on air while, earthbound, we rarely remember we are flying.
Chicago
22 September 2022
