The crows are back. They haven’t been here in years. Some say it was the bird flue that got them, but whatever is was we were happy without them. This year, however, they returned, and we were not happy to see a half-dozen of them on the front lawn, pecking away. Not that I don’t like birds: we have a number of sparrows and things flying around the yards, and I keep a feeder out back for the smaller ones.
But crows are different. I go out front to get the paper at 5:30 in the morning, and the crow walks slowly to the opposite side of the yard, with the insolent eye of the gangster.
“Sure, mister, I’ll get out of your way. But I’m keeping my eye on you.”
The crow cries sharp
insistently
The flock lights in a nearby tree
and plots indignities
on nearby outdoor diners
The crow is not the lowland farmer
faithfully turning the field with his spade
but the Norse chief standing
in the prow of the raider boat
the crew carefully shipping the oars
and readying the swords and lances
Crow photo: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Corvus_brachyrhynchos_30196.JPG
Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.
