The large crow stood
on the fence, alone,
as if waiting for me
when I returned home.
Around us the angled light
of a descending sun streaked
the houses and trees,
but the crow’s black cloak 
and eyes sucked light in
and didn’t let it out.

We stared at each other.
Did his presence here have import?
Crows are a symbol of wisdom
but also an omen of death.
I decided not to chance it.
You have the wrong house, I shouted.
He splayed out his onyx wings
and took heavy flight.
He may have signaled fate
or just found a place to light.