Crows In Snow

In the white teeth of the blizzard four big crows
are digging under the bird feeder in the back garden,
beak-raking sprays of shocking brightness
over their impossibly black backs and shoulders
in their search for sunflower seeds that Kira scattered
for the small birds yesterday when the snow
was starting, which has continued ever since
drifting and building up against every bush and railing
as if it wished to bury us all and all our rattled lives
under immaculate mounds of white and cold
and never let us see blue light or anything green
again. But the crows keep delving for dear life and
pay no attention to our faces pasted to the window.