Wednesday, June 13, 2007


After the sixth or seventh caw I look out the window
And spot a crow on the line across the street.
He looks left, preens. Then he is still.
I wonder if that’s him and he caws three times.

He flaps and settles, then sidesteps right with wings ajar.
He steps again. Then he is still. A rattling
Car turns the corner and slows. And honks. The crow
Flies to a maple on my side of the street and disappears
In the green leaves. The car door shuts. A roar

And they rattle away. A far off siren. Wind
Against the glass. Four barks, big dog. I close
My eyes. A bead of water fattens and
Sags, stretching like saliva till he caws.

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