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The Crow

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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

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This poem originally appeared in the May 2003 issue of Poetry magazine

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The Crow

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