The Committee, by Ann Stanford

Black and serious, they are dropping down one by one to

the top of the walnut tree.

It is spring and the bare branches are right for a conversation.

The sap has not risen yet, but those branches will always be

bare

Up there, crooked with ebbed life lost now, like a legal

argument.

They shift a bit as they settle into place.

Once in a while one says something, but the answer is always

the same,

The question is too--it is all caw and caw.

Do they think they are hidden by the green leaves partway

up the branches?

Do they like it up there cocking their heads in the fresh

morning?

One by one they fly off as if to other appointments.

Whatever they did, it must be done all over again.

From “The Descent” by Ann Stanford (Viking: 84 pp.) Copyright 1997 Reprinted by permission.