The crow dropped a sea shell-
Normal in complexion,
Upon the wooden railing.
A trade of sorts-
Bread for unbroken beauty.
From it's perch,
High in the leafless Cliffdiving tree,
It gazes out into the frothy blue.
If it would have let me closer
I might have traded Words for silence
And for a time consoled in wiser wings
Than ever before.
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