Equinox

Atop a bare, twisted tree,
in a forest veiled 
pink with haze,
a crow unfurls wings 
like sails against the wind.

Two minions, one perched 
on either side, bow to him
and caw through mist
that rises from the ground.

The crow stares silently,
wings outstretched
and trembling to thunder.

The sky above boils
black with cloudburst.
The pink horizon feathers
gray with rain.

Scott Speck
03/20/2001