Crow, the doves descending on the square br have sullied your name, cooed gossip to wealthy tourists, br their gullets stuffed with handouts, while you soar br over the oaks with dreaming clouds, with the glare br and glimmer of the distant but holy sun br in your misunderstood eyes, your paeans one br with the wind. Yet it was you who, perched on the shoulder br of Jesus, watched him suffer and heard him cry, br and it was you who saw the enormous boulder br moved, and you who saw him enter the sky.