By JM
Date: 4 December 1997

Outside

outside, under a bleak March sky
I watch as large black crows 
pick through decaying garbage
which others have cast aside.

they favor hearts of palm
over coffee grounds,
broken eggshells,
and curled orange peel.

they also leave bits 
of congealed blue wax
from a candle burnt
at both ends.

I savor the heady musky scent 
of the blue candle
and feast upon memories
contained in my mind's eye

the candle grows 
smaller and smaller
each night
that we are apart.