We always fidget in our pants,
These mosquitoes egging us on,
Bits of cold now, a far city’s call.
We really wish to get up and go
Taking a long staff in our hands.
We are waiting for the moment
The crow will land on the wall.
But now there is something to it.
Lately we begin to feel the crow
Has never defined our moment.
We are just there and the crow.