A lantern casts shadows of itself
as gentle winds choreograph
a dance of light and dark
on the walls of the tent camper.
Two crows caw from one tree to another,
when I step out to look at the stars.
Under the dotted canopy of nighttime,
I bite a chunk from a cold baked potato
left over from that evening’s meal.
Looking up to connect the dots,
one of the crows blindsides me.
It grabs onto my potato and soars off,
its querulous partner chasing it away
from the scene of the crime.
a constellation of crows
talons sunk into a single potato
reveals itself in the night sky.