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“Crow” — C.Birde, 5/19

 

Open the door.

Step outside.

Underfoot,

limestone and

concrete,

cool, gritty.

Look left,

past the railing;

a crow sails –

wings fanned –

from the great

Norway spruce.

Down

down

down.

Black feathers

finger,

catch,

disperse,

and

scatter light.

Wings serve

as rudder and

brakes;

he curls through

the air and

lands

on the bottom-

most step.

Arrived, he waits –

wings folded,

body

contracted,

compacted,

prepared

to

launch

for safety.

Dark eyes aglitter

beneath corvid

brow;

wedge

of soot-black bill

lifts.

Crow – guide;

harbinger;

messenger;

 omens

safely tucked

underwing.

Where have you

been?

For years,

you called me

to this very

door;

I fed you;

watched you

strut

about the green-

grass yard,

unafraid.

Five years

absent;

the duration

of his

passing.

I hear your

call.

Deliver

your message –

I am

ready.

 

— C.Birde, 5/19

 

2 Comments

    • Thank you, Caprice — your praise means a great deal to me! ❤️


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