A crow alights here
hard and shiny as anthracite
unexpectedly landing on the rocks right beyond my porch
Flexing its muscles and its wings
Squawking a message I cannot decipher
as he peers in through the open door at me
on the couch
another world for it to fail to comprehend
Or who knows just how much he does know
Our eyes meet
Two creatures leaning across the chasm between species
It’s impressive            all the things this crow sees
up close                       down here where he struts back and forth
his beak a weapon and a tool               picking around
Making holes in the earth
finally coming up with something long and tasty
or at least useful for a nest
that is who knows where
Also having no idea what he’s thinking
as he fixes his gaze on me
they say they can recognize specific humans
that they’re smart
so who knows just what he knows
he knows I’m not a scarecrow             and not carrion either 
and knows now where I nest
and is pleased with whatever detritus he can find down on the ground
refuse he loves to scatter
the scent of it still coming up from his throat
and then there’s all that crows can spot from way up in the sky
or on the corner of the roof
from where he watches me take out another load of trash
Pungent                       tempting
and how I walk and whistle                happy as a bird.
The crow waiting
Joined by two more                            all of them in a row
their caw a complaint             a lament          a warning
who knows
Crows hanging on the edge there
the disquieting omens of something
the superstitious say
and they just sit there
staring                         stalking
doing Hitchcock proud
and at this point I have to worry
where this could all lead.


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