Dark in the day

I was sitting on a bench starting to write some kind of poem and then I saw this crow kind of staring at me like he was trying to write a poem. We maintained some form of eye contact for what seemed like quite a while.  So I just stopped what I was writing and wrote about the long staring match I had with this crow:

 

 

I’m 5 foot 11, pale skin.

I sometimes wish I were a better person.

Not often enough that I’d make a change.

Just enough that I’d write it down.

 

There he stands, dark in the day

Sometimes predator and sometimes prey.

He has somewhat a prance and somewhat a waltz

Somewhat an acceptance of his own faults.

The coat that he wears floats easy in the air,

I bet you could tell him that and he wouldn’t care.

He tilts his head, almost as if he’s trying to gauge.

If it is he or its I that is in the cage.

He wears a flack jacket like a suit of flight armor.

His eyes dance around like a snake charmer.

He takes off from a flat-footed stance.

In with a twitch out with a glance.

And then off into the wind

Fair-weather animal friend.

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