by Josh Huber

The crow in the oak branches above me
speaks of heaven, a place she’s often been.
She cracks an acorn on a branch for emphasis,
her black beak ringed with sun.
Like this, and like this, she says,
on a low bough, cracking her acorn again,
the hosts spin and clap their wings aloud.
Like this, she says, ruffling the feathers of her back
in a gust of wind, God blooms a dark
blossom, a bird feathered with tines
of light in plumes, a solitary adolescent–
smoke in all her rooms.








Josh Huber lives in Columbia, MO with his wife Angela. He recently graduated from the  Masters of English program at the University of Missouri and now teaches at several schools in the area. His various works have appeared (or are set to appear) in Storyscape, Foliate Oak, Bridge Eight, Scissors & Spackle, The Missouri Review, and elsewhere.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: