When all the starlings, robins, jays
Have given up and gone to nest,
The crows refuse the calling night,
Defer the final rest.
Over the waiting conifers
They improvise an arabesque,
A final celebration to
The dying fire in the West.
Like fighter pilots when flight was new,
Over the field they chase and dive,
Rise like ash from an unseen fire,
Circle like everything alive.
The second ending, it’s called in jazz,
Refuse to let go and get gone.
One more once, Count Basie says,
Let the song sing its love of the song.
