something is wrong with that crow
he's crazy
he's lazy
he's garbage fat
walking slow up the street
crow wanders through the ditches
up into the neatly lined pines
scratchy footprints in the snow
leading under the chain fence
in behind a rotten tree stump
not crazy, lazy, or fat
he's just dying
Oh so sad for the crow.........winter is hard for the critters. Hope you and your family are well, Ollie.....thanks for your visit to my blog. Stay safe, if such is even possible any more. They say the vaccine wears off after four months. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteIt was good to pop in. Thanks Sherry.
Deletenice! this is the kind of stuff i like, great voice in this. i'm adding you to my blogroll
ReplyDeleteThanks Phillip - check out the Square Corner, and the Human Paradox - both killer poets in my Blog Roll.
DeleteYou see so many crows walking the streets. Or maybe they've always been there, and I just notice their numbers now because my life is getting "scratchy" and old like wobbly vinyl that hisses and skips to a Boss's Nebraska tune. Hope the crow can take one last flight with his failing, dignified wings before the wings of heaven bring him home. Thanks, Brother Ollie. This poem got me thinking. Loved a bird as a metaphor for life and death.
ReplyDelete