Me & My Old Crow
After everything, winter still fell away into summer.
The nest of crows filled and emptied. You watched
at different angles.
Outside: cigarette butts and discarded couches,
their stuffing greyed and congealing.
After everything, rain. Baby crows cried to eat.
You watched the mother tear spaghetti from the dumpster.
In spring, the trees greened over the electric wire
and you were still breathing.
Would you rather remain unaware of it all
and never know your heart’s certain economies?
6 thoughts on "Me & My Old Crow"
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Crow caw
to the Order Of The Seasons
Shaun – Enjoyed this poem a lot. Loved the use of the word “economies” at the end. It is unexpected and offers so many levels of meaning. It reminded me of the Robert Hayden poem “Those Winter Sundays” with the last two lines – “What did I know, what did I know/
of love’s austere and lonely offices?” Both poems have the same delightful echoes at the end.
Thanks so much for your kind words, Sylvia. I was echoing an element of that Hayden poem and how it discusses complicated love.
love the mood and tone of this
Thank you for your kind words, Pat.
Great title and beginning line.
So many gorgeous images and sounds created. My favorite is “In spring, the trees greened.”