In another world, we were crows,
black and aloft. This memory is
why we watch them, wary with assigned
meanings, full of lore, legends abounding
Once, a crow got in our house—who knows how?
That’s how we learned of doorways between
Worlds where we are human and worlds where
we are crows. In some houses (in your house)
The worlds flow into one another In dreams, too.
Those are doors. Some books— Charles de Lint
traveled with his crow girls into some far places.
Another sign, another doorway-
The way your heart tightens when the flock lifts
all at once, from the snowy field.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 