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OUTSIDE-THE CROWS 11/14/2021


Outside my window
I'm afforded a slice of bone-white sky
a dirty-white reflection of nearing winter's light

It seems silent but for the persistent moaning meanings
whistling through the rising winds
interspersed with a cacophonous language
of insistent birds
the darker sentinels of the sky

They've stationed themselves
at their corners
their keen red eyes scanning
the yard-denizens below
the dogs the people
the pigeons
the squirrels scampering by

Not the darkness
nor harbingers of impending tragedy
these shadow-birds so plentiful
are harbingers of the bleaker season
the months near the end of the year
resonate and echo through their cries

Some might call the opportunists
even Eaters of the yolkish sun,
the plotting blighters roaming the
sols tic skies

I think them creatures claiming their due
each one of us claiming their spot
beneath the Great Spirit's watching eyes

I call them my friends
I mimic them and the love and loneliness
I listen for in their persistent cries

They make their best out of the worst
Each crow a member of a group...
Scavenging families knit together
with inborn ties

Each member matters
unlike their fractious human counterparts
who divide themselves
pulling and tearing at the tenderest tethers
of anything which might prove to bind

The crows
rare birds
are free
but whole
in their flight
by day hunting together
by night
returning to their shared roost
the same bows and beds
where they roost
each and every night.


LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM 11/14/2021 9:32AM PST TIME AND DATE STAMPED
AND ALSO FOR THIS POET/WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS
AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY REGISTERED AND COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE
MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD

THANK YOU FOR READING AND SHARING IN MY PERSPECTIVE





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