1) As others flew east, these three crows remained behind perched high above their fallen comrade, they patiently waited while protecting the sanctity of that crow's final process: death.

2) Death is always with us, woven into our lives, as surely as we breathe, it comes to us unadorned and as simple as these sentinel crows.

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3) Regardless of the company we keep, death cannot be shared.  It is ours, and ours alone (just as is life) to do well.

4) Each breath moves us towards the eventuality of death: a state we cannot possibly comprehend regardless of how many times we bear witness at someone's bedside or funeral.

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5) Constantly planning our own futures, (the next event, partner, painting, or poem) how can we fully grasp the concept of never-again; never-no-more; or nothingness?  What if there is no after-life in which to carry on?  How does one do death or, perhaps more correctly, not do death?

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6) Ultimately, death solicits change.  It insists we re-evaluate our lives and enter tomorrow prepared for a new flight.

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