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It was not death she feared
but wings, startled and dense
searching the September fields

for corn. Every autumn
she’d pull the car to the side
for crows crossing the sky.

Once, one landed
on the hood of her car
and a tree followed.

A bad omen? When I told her
how in Jung’s book of symbols
birds represent self,

the darker the color
the more repressed the need,
she laughed then sighed.

It is all hunger,
she said.
hunger and flight.