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Why are swans the symbol of beauty?
Is it their nimble necks and angel wings?
Though my neck is stocky and my wings, not of heaven,
My posture is fair and I fly just as well.

Why are owls the symbol of wisdom?
Is it their trusting eyes and clever hunting tactics?
Though my eyes are beady and my talons, not of sport,
I perceive all and gather only what I need.

Why are robins the symbol of song?
Is it their sweet sound and timely performance?
Though my voice is coarse, and my timing, unplanned.
I have a faithful audience and I arrive as I please.

Why are doves the symbol of love?
Is it their perfect presents and Biblical presence?
Though my gifts may be peculiar and my name unknown,
God knows of me and my romantic love language.

Why does society have such poor taste in birds?
Is their view so bleak they only touch surface level?
Though hawks may seem gallant and parrots, exotic,
I know that my name, Crow, means more than just death.

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