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The Way Of The Crow

sometimes I think

the crows know more than I do

sometimes I wish

I had their wings

sometimes I believe

my thoughts are like them

black on the outside but free beneath

sometimes I think they're my darker angels

way too often misunderstood

to live not so long
but to live more complete

when a crow flies

he threads the skies

with dark embroidery
and drops the last stitch in the trees

the crows and I

see the world how we see

from the vantage point of the clouds

not of those below

we know what few know

to be black

but not to be bleak nor tired

to wing and dream soaring high

if I were a crow

I'd always have family

and a shelter where I might go

welcome wouldn't just be a word written on a mat

its in the way

of the crow

November 28 2022  6:40pm time and date stamped for draft
legal copyright for this poem
and for this writer Melissa A. Howells
and for this legally copyrighted and registered site title
Meloo straight from her tilt-a-world.

1/9/2023 re-edited for clarity of metaphor and thought
Legal copyright 1/92023 4:01PM PST time and date stamped.

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