Matthew’s Reviews > The Southern Poetry Anthology: Volume VIII: Texas > Status Update

I felt it again:

that pang that comes with the changing
leaves, frail unease as the world tilts again
into winter--some forgotten drumming

in the marrow that should have me filling
the woodpile and rasping the axe.
The crows call in threes:

Watch, watch, watch. Shadows of wings,
they say, and gather the seeds.
Count the children again.