The crow soars upwards high above the snow.
Attempting to traverse a concrete mountain.
Tirelessly flapping its wings.
The peak is in sight but can never be reached.
For it is stuck in flight.
The crow covers no new ground.
No matter how far its wings stretch.
No matter how hard it tries to pierce the clouds.
The wind beneath its feathers cannot lift it any higher.
For it is stuck in flight.
Tirelessly flapping its wings.
High above the snow.
- Quiet-Emerald