Heights Of Folly
O crows circling over my head and cawing!
by Charles Simic
I admit to being, at times,
Suddenly, and without the slightest warning,
On a morning otherwise sunless,
Strolling arm in arm
Past some gallows-shaped trees
With my dear Helen,
Who is also a strange bird,
With a feeling of being summoned
Urgently, but by a most gracious invitation
To breakfast on slices of watermelon
In the company of naked gods and goddesses
On a patch of last night's snow.