A lot of confused feelings about war. The first Americans believed that crows made the sun go down. Near our house it's quite an event every evening. Crows don't know that people don't believe that's the crows' job anymore.
High in the cypress black crows gather, making their business and circling round. They rise like fans, they dive and they tumble, shadows dancin on the cold, cold ground. They know their job. They cry and they rumble, makin the sun go down.