Connections

Ever since that crow and I had a nice chat

He won’t leave me alone.

I say that it’s a he because I’m not really sure,

But by the way that he and that other crow

Were sidling up to Mademoiselle Crowette

On the telephone high wire, I’m almost certain that he’s a he.

He acted insulted when I asked, so I dropped the subject.

Wherever I go, he’s there chatting me up

In a nice way. Polite crow.

He must be young to trust me, so…

I was walking home from work near the old brick schoolhouse

With the bent and torn chain-link fence

That needs repairs so that the beer drinking teenagers

And the paper sack vagrants stay out,

Which is tough when the liquor store sets its clock back five minutes

To stay open a bit longer than it should

Til the AA meeting (Twelve steps away) is done.

In the morning, the crow looks for breakfast chips and cheese snacks

Intermingling with the broken glass in brown bags

And the crow sometimes complains to me

About the quality of food

Or the mess

Or about how confusing most humans are.

As if I could do something about it!

But mostly, he cries and mourns

Just like we all do

Although crow tears are rare, today he shed one on my arm.

I never encountered a depressed crow before,

And I was feeling kind of sad myself

So I tried a few comforting words

That might make sense to a crow.

Hopefully, he’ll have a healthier dinner tonight,

A good rest in the nest

Allowing him to see life differently in the morning.