melissaahowells
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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 Vote for this poem |
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