~
The city’s crows peck and skewer carrion
selectively choosing between the perennial litter
left sodden and desultory in the winter rains.
I watch their darker shapes swoop about
on mite plagued wings
Curious and feisty feet hopping
through bony limbed trees.
~
I’d like to think we share
a similar response to the litter,
to this common visual insult,
despite our differences
of foot or beak or choice of cuisine.
They caw at me as I toe debris to the street,
summer’s occasional litter bagging I tell myself
improbable now in the drenched and cold.
~
Above me their black wings
posture and flex in raucous recognition.
I know they’re looking at me.
They’re intelligent birds
They own this side of the street
They recognize faces…
Startled I wonder what they see in mine?
Is there a password for this?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
pencil sketch: j.h.white
Poetry of Light 
great poem and art.
they are amazing birds. I recently watched a thing about a girl who began feeding them. they began bringing her presents. feathers, shells and other things. one time her mother left her camera lens cap out where she’d been photographing, and they brought it back to her.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks Belinda…This poem is my homage to these wonderful birds. I haven’t written poetry in awhile and needed a conspirator to work with. (LOL)
I did see that piece about the young girl! Even wondered about trying it. The crows are as big as cats around here, but I think I live on too busy a street for them to pay us this much attention. I still have hopes though.
LikeLike
worth pursuing. who knows? I just love their huge dark presence. they turn up in my poems quite a lot.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Wonderful, both.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Richard…it’s been quite an experience hanging with a few crows (even in my imagination) while writing this. I have a long relationship with corvids and somehow it translates.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You took me right there into that feeling Jana, which seems to me great praise for your work. Smart creatures those Corvids, have you seen the intelligence tests they perform with sticks and treats? HX
LikeLiked by 1 person
Morning Hariod….good to hear! Crows are notorious as conspirators in storytelling. I’m bereft if there aren’t a few nesting near the house in the warmer months. I like hearing the fledglings squawking above the sounds of fire sirens and traffic. Keeps me sane.
There seems to be quite a bit of interest in their intelligence….as it should be. I keep my eyes open for the latest. Have you seen this one?
LikeLiked by 1 person
No I hadn’t; that’s quite extraordinary that a masked human face should stir such apparent anxiety(?), or in any case, a heightened activity. I’m sure you will have seen this one Jana, from what you say in your comment:
LikeLiked by 1 person
Always interested in seeing more Hariod. Thanks for adding the video. He’s a cutie too….
LikeLiked by 1 person
Want the password? 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
I am fascinated by crows and there’s some wonderful imagery here.
LikeLiked by 1 person
They know how to capture my attention, that’s for sure. Thanks for joining in Mark. Come to think of it, I can see some crow imagery lurking in your own writing :~)
LikeLike
Yes definitely Jana. The crows are always up there lurking, hovering above the street lamps above the words. I like that your crows are un-showy. There’s a great poem by Raymond Carver called My Crow, well worth checking out.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Heckle and Jeckle, at one point, did cross my mind…
Thought I’d share the Carver poem here…
MY CROW
A crow flew into the tree outside my window.
It was not Ted Hughes’s crow, or Galway’s crow.
Or Frost’s, Pasternak’s, or Lorca’s crow.
Or one of Homer’s crows, stuffed with gore,
after the battle. This was just a crow.
That never fit in anywhere in its life,
or did anything worth mentioning.
It sat there on the branch for a few minutes.
Then picked up and flew beautifully
out of my life.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Evocative: both poem and sketch.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks John. It stretched my muscles writing and then it was fun setting the scene/pose for the photo I wanted to use for the sketch….
LikeLike
walking outside
~
my password
is
layers
LikeLiked by 1 person
Tell me about it… In fact I’ve begun to tell the time of day by the subtraction of a layer.
LikeLike
entertaining my artist child
on my daily walk
the crow welcomes me
~
clicking noise
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes! I love all their vocal mannerisms. Take a crow to lunch!
LikeLike
You are most certainly in the moment, Jana…and you transport us there. Quite wondrous to re-read it and sense it bloom.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m so glad you felt this Bonnie. This one was one of those “bears” too… but so worth it for the process. Smiles back at you…
LikeLike
I really love this poem Jana, and the evocative drawing is of you, I presume.
There are crow’s in your world, or most likely, you are there, in the crow’s world.
For a large part of the day, we live on the edge of life whilst they are fully engaged. They have seen you,they recognise your face. know your movements, the password…. being.
Thank you Jana, I really enjoyed this post and all the comments, looking forward to watching the videos.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I believe you have solved the riddle Teri, in a most grace-filled way…
“For a large part of the day, we live on the edge of life whilst they are fully engaged. They have seen you,they recognise your face. know your movements, the password…. being.”
Thank you for this! I really love our dialogues…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Your point of view gives me reason to consider how I think/feel about the subject you are considering, leading to a dialogue that I am very glad to be a part of.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’ve been reading Max Porter’s Grief is the thing with feathers, it reminded me of moments in this poem – particularly the final stanza.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Crows seem to have a literary bent….I appreciate the mention of Max Porter’s book, Rico. It looks like one I’d like to read. Thanks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
your artwork and poem work so well together. i enjoyed the touch of humor in the last line. interesting to see how many responses you’ve gotten on the subject of crows. my brothers and i took in a crow found by kids in a nearby river bed. someone had cut into the flesh of its wings, presumably to keep it from flying. it talked, saying “oh boy oh boy oh boy.” it responded to affection, bending its head down when we stroked its neck, its inner then outer eyelids closing as it savored the attention. it eventually recognized strangers to our house, walking over to them and pecking them in the ankles. when mom would hang up the laundry on the line in the backyard Connie the Crow would stealthily come up behind her, peck her ankle, grab the clothespin that mom would inevitably drop, and then hop back to its pen to add to its collection of interesting things. i will always have great respect for crows.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Two crows once dive bombed me on my way walking to school. Their feet (or wings) grazed the top of my head as I headed for safety under a bush. I imagined they were trying to take me away. For me, it was love at first sight. But lucky you!…how cool. What a wonderful experience to have and share growing up.
I wasn’t aware crows have both an inner and an outer eyelid. Hmmm. And you were close enough to see this. Wonderful memories. Thanks for adding to the crow homage page!
LikeLike