A Little Murder
A LITTLE MURDER
Eight crows sorted themselves
from the background and settled
on the wires and naked branches
to sing a November song,
CAW!
Abrupt,
like this chill gust of wind
mustered from behind the hill.
My hand reaches for my collar.
CAW!
A leaf skirls sideways down the lawn
to snag on a nameless bush.
CAW! CAW!
The little murder has imposed on my moment
here when I was thinking of other things:
bread milk, impending winter...
This inconvenient trip to town
interrupted by my fascination for these
harbingers dressed in black who look down,
waiting,
waiting.
CAW!
They watch me decide to play their game.
the sentinel in the top of that isolate
persimmon rattles his feathers,
adjusts his stance,
disinterested as I should be
in my quiet evening
now focused on things
beyond the plans I’ve made.
CAW!
A lift of wings,
a fumbling for keys,
gravel crunches on my way to the car,
the door chunks heavy in the silence.
I sit, safe for a moment and
pull into the night.
Copyright
Vol Lindsey
2002
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