Liminal Places

Found Morning
This morning I returned
to the same place.
The crow is hopping and croaking.
The clouds in the east are colored
with the pink newness
of the day.
Now I see that this place
remembers me,
is tending to me.
Blind for so long
my eyes are opened
in tears and sunrise.
The crow calls in fours
Yes yes yes yes
Here here here here.