To the Last Living Thing in Winter

black crow standing 
in white snow I think 
       I'll call you Dread
or Grim
or some other word to say
       I'm weary 
of Death's associations 
stacking before me 
and you'll know flying away 
leaving me to ponder 

or not? black crow 
standing in white snow 
      I think
I'll call you Lovely
or Color
or some other word to show
your beauty 
as you come prancing down 
the pavement beside me