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Personal Note:

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Poem

It’s late in the morning the squirrels have let me know
Its time for their breakfast, peanuts on the side porch
On the railings near where the old Olive tree grows
There they stand fussing and staring at the window 
Near the fence within sight of the kitchen just below

But for weeks now I have wondered where are the crows?
Where are the squawking sounds of those three
I have not seen or heard them and wonder where could they be 
Black feathers in the morning but not now in the boroughs or trees
So each day in the mornings I wonder where is my Murder of Crows

I am fearful that some builder someone nearby have been
Annoyed by the early sound of their calls in the morning
Wandering about as they are cracking nuts shells on the roof
Now by the shed I just heard the strong sound of his claws
I see only him and so that is why there been this quiet pause

Over and over the years I have hear his strong demanding caws
Followed by his wife of many years and a daughter or son
Who get older find a mate and move to a new tree far from guns 
Safe from the hawks and owls they all live in the woods and leaves
But now I see him all alone a widower and I suspect that he grieves

And seeing him finally so alone on the shed this I know
His family is gone from an owl or man, those murderers of crows
He is back cawing away alone watching me come and go
Does he know there is family for him here for I care 
And will be here with peanuts and dried fruit today and tomorrow

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