The Crows Come
When I sprinkle the black sunflower seeds
in my garden, for my songbirds
The crows come in, and land on their knees
They cover the yard and caw their truth
Pretending they are ravens,
I can endure their ugly banter
Bringing thoughts of Poe into my brain
I am not ready yet, so please do not push me.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2020
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