Crows don’t seek bread
or sheltered warmth
but something else more sustaining
something that defies gravity & time
the whims of shifting seasons
unrelenting heat
bitter cold
sheets of pouring rain
and all the many other
encumbrances life thrusts
upon birds & humans;
the crows’ sturdy black wings carry them
over rooftops, treetops, highways
one lands on an eave, turns her head
blinks at the sun glinting off the metal
downspout
another circles an aspen
claims a tree limb, waits for who knows what
I watch from the sidewalk, head cocked
wondering if crows worry about
sleet and snow and boys with BB guns
or getting safely home
the birds don’t mind if I stare or fret
they leave me to my musing
I sit on the grass, gaze at the clouds
distracted by my own illusions
when I turn back, the crows
have left their roosts, flown away
off to places unknown to me
places beyond the reach of my
limited ways of knowing.
Ah Bless you Mary – another wonder – this poem – thought provoking and as always so much depth – such a pleasure to read – please get that book out – please.