Poem breakups

"Crow is Walking"

Crow is walking to see things at ground level,
the ground as new under his feet as the air is old under his wings.
He laves the dead rabbit waiting -- it's a given, it'll always be there -- and walks down the dirt road,
admires the pebbles,
how they sparkle in the sun;
checks out his reflection in a puddle full of sky which reminds him of where he's supposed to be, but he's beginning to like the way the muscles move in his legs and the way his wings feel so comfortable folded back and resting.
He thinks he might be beautiful,
the sun lighting his back with purple and green.
Faint voices from somewhere far ahead roll like dust down the road towards him.
He hurries a little.
His tongue moves in his mouth;
legends of language move in his mind.
His beak opens.
He tries a word.

This poem is broken up, I think, to create pause and time between thoughts. All forms of punctuation are used for this.