It is everywhere.

It is everywhere.

I hear it in the call of a crow

Atop a tall tree

Claiming it as a free state

Woe-betide usurpers.

The bark of a dog

Tethered in the backyard

With no water

In its bowl.

The house empty

Until the evening when work is done

A house filled with apathy

Tiredness kills.

The slap of rain on the deck

Of a rusting barge

High and dry

On a sandbar at low tide

Never to be floated free.

The crow still cawing

Wilder than before

Still, it waits

For the company of family.

Scavenging from bin bags

A joint enterprise

A purposeful endeavour

Perhaps they will return

With bounty.

I hear it in the autumn

The sorrow of weeping

As the cold winds blow

Leaves fall as tears

Gold turns to brown

Powdered into dust.

It is in the hollow

Of an empty room

The darkness at your shoulder

The ping of a microwave

The taste of a single malt

Drunk alone

Unappreciated