Linda Martin lives on a small acreage in Nanaimo with her dogs and Bengal cats. In the daytime, she works as a book publicist, and in her spare time she writes poetry and paints.

Monday's Poem

© Linda Martin


Crow in the holly bush
outside my world, your plumage
almost concealed, your eye watchful.

Crow: we both share secrets—
you the secret of the forest,
your birth. Your eye thirsts.

Was it your eye that stared down
through shadows to light,
following the pine shaft

to the amber autumnal bed?
Your eye there in the forest
at my birth, when I died?