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rounding the curve of I5 North as a bobsled would maneuver the track I witnessed a murder of crows witnessing the death of one of their own he lay by the roadside one wing broken, still flapping the others giving either encouragement or proclaiming their vast distress my eyes a beam focusing for a moment the eye of my lens memorizing the troubling scene pain registers in the pulled strings of winces traveling across my face if this were a town not a boorish city I would ask to stop, wouldn't I? death is sometimes an accident a footnote a byline a glimmer of light on the television a sentence in the mouth of the reporter present one moment and then removed as if it hadn't happened it must be different to experience this, to be an animal.., but I am an animal just a different sort the world is too BIG and... the counting of significant numbers is minimized then trivialized by the multitudes of dying being normalized but not to these birds who are already dressed in their mourning jackets... each and every Crow is accounted for and matters... ( I see them bowing in the rear window now in unison) June 14, 2022 happened 2:12pm on the rat-race called I5 North legal copyright for this poem 5:42PM PST 6/14/2022 time and date stamped and also for this writer/poet/author MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY REGISTERED AND COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE: MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD Vote for this poem |
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