I have been asking myself whether natural forms—a tree,
a cloud, a river, a stone, a flower—can be looked at and perceived as messages.
—John Berger

Shadows are being recalled
by their bodies

there are crows
leaving the trees; allow them

their cronks to distinguish
themselves from dusk

moving as sea-patterns
over the sleeping men

they know that we’re heartless:
immensities and vastnesses

made to become wind
moving through a house.

Please note that works on the Canadian Literature website may not be the final versions as they appear in the journal, as additional editing may take place between the web and print versions. If you are quoting reviews, articles, and/or poems from the Canadian Literature website, please indicate the date of access.