POEM
The Crow
Was it because
at last
I cleaned the window
that he threw himself
against the glass?
I thought, poor crow—
he doesn't know
the evergreens
and blue sky
are behind him.
I turned back
to my page
but whumpp—
the bird attacked
the glass again.
His long claws
scuffled at the pane
and I yelled "Crow!
Go away!"
Again his body slapped
the glass,
again
and then again,
and then at last
he caught my eye—
oh, prophet,
terrified.
Source: Poetry (May 2003).
