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Home, Ghuey, Sweet Home

All Beings Considered

I Long For Stars

The Best Revenge (For All Your Critic's Critiques)

Your Next New Dying Black Swan



The Dreaming Life ( A Series Of Dream Vignettes)

Nothing's Sadder Than A Rose

Not For The Bloom of Tears Cultivated These Last 100 Years

All Too Clearly Now

If This Is Any Art For Which You Care

Informed Through Pain

Sometimes In Losing I Have Gained A Lot

A Man Of The Clouds

The Birds Are Such Un-numbering Creatures of Distant Hitchcockian Past

Accountants

Shrine

Didn't You Learn That First Lesson In Kindergarten?

They Grew (A Poem From The Imaginarium)

Cuba Libre

Dragons

Max on the max

The Little Bird Said

The Factory of Resentments

When My Blues Are Gone

Expect Yourself

TONIGHT

I WILL RETURN

Silver-Tongued Devil

Within The Green Wind Becomes The Fall

Think On This--IF YOU WOULD

Open Lines

You Got Your Lilly Back

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Good bye Little Crow....(I'm so sad and sorry)


Little Crow

why is this called saying good-bye
when the parting is not
good?
it isn't

little bird
now fallen

the little bird who failed to thrive

one of trailing white feather
now of crumpled wing
what is the kind of song of you
now that you have died
that a mere human voice could sing

I found you crushed lying
in the middle of the street
your beak open as if you were about
to speak

would this have been your song?

a song of swooping
a song of fearlessness and release
a song of surviving bad weather
a song of passing years
of having family
a song of many refrains
a song of endless seasons over and over
again and again

I am sad Little Crow
I relished feeding you
and your family
in the streets near my building
until it was decreed
by the upstairs monitor lizard
" no more"

shortly after the decree
I found you
the one white trailing feather
moved slightly in the breeze

it was too hot for tears
but my heart clenched
into a fist
as I saw all around you
a scattering of black
feathers

your family
must have come
to be with you
in the end
I'm aware that crows
do that
they attend more
funerals
than some
humans do

youth is hard
you didn't grow up
I enjoyed being your
friend
Little Crow

but I wanted to
see you live to grow
older into
one big damn crow jaunting
down the street one day
with a long white feather
trailing far behind.


(I will always love you.
No one can say to me you
were just a stupid bird.)



Little Crow was a nestling that fell of a great tree near
my complex. I was feeding him and his family in the street
until I was given a 30 day no cause eviction notice in
violation of my lease. Several days later I found Little
Crow crumpled lying in the street. It does not necessarily
follow that these events logically happened one after the
other. But in my half-broken heart they did. We had a sort
of bond. I don't care what anyone else thinks. He/She who
cannot make room in their heart for all of God's creatures
does not have much of a heart. I make no concession in this.
The street will always be public domain to me. And I so
thoroughly enjoyed being greeted by the crow family every
day I was greeted with rice n such. They ate everything.
There was nothing left but for the ants. I think I am
through with apartment living. Perhaps its time to get
me a ten/tee pee or build a cabin/a-frame.
I've been a damn city slicker for far too long and it is
beginning to wear on me. I need to grow my own vegetables again.

Copyright August 22 2014/All Rights Reserved By The Author
Melissa A Howells/Meloo straight from her Tilt-a-World
All rants/ideas/poetry/prose are legal property of this Writer.









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