I am laughing with the crows

I laugh with the crows in the morning, as the cool mist veils us like a blanket. The moon, collective and calm, adopts the light of its older brother, with the fragrant kiss of the shared breath of men and trees lending it a mild orange hue. As the siblings brilliantly smile at the cozy time they share, acoustic melodies and recorded silence fuzz the air, and we listen to the hearts of men played out on the strings of guitars and cracking of tattered roads. Our father tells the best jokes. We laugh the whole way round. Little bodies dancing circles in the warm black air of space. Our father tells the most lively stories. Their laughter is stronger than that of the jokes of men. I am laughing with the crows.