Hold the Corners

As dusk descends to darkness
and light’s shadows flicker
in amber and golden waves,
she begins to fly
across bright seas,
beyond the borders
of love and hate,
to a peace that resembles not
stars in heavenly chariots,
only crows huddled on gray stone sills,
whose powerful predator beaks
hold the corners of the wind
and point the way out
untouched by tongues
of devouring waves.