Gifts From Crows – Poem #103

Dim December’s light
breaking dawn of Winter’s night
reveals a naked frozen bough
hosting the chorus of crows

rousing us to a morning
thick in ice
where nothing flows
save time alone

leaving tiny gifts
in the feeder cleared of nuts;
shiny things;
an earring, a hinge, a polished rock

while reminding
they are not to blame
for the footprints
‘round our eyes.

Rowdy crows;
messengers of Apollo
playing in the wind
cornering a red tail hawk


About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
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1 Response to Gifts From Crows – Poem #103

  1. beetleypete says:

    Crows have a bad reputation, and farmers around here shoot as many as they can. But they clear away the roadkill and dead animals in the hedgerows, and they are worthy opponents of anything, even a cat!
    Nice crow tribute, Frank!
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 1 person

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