Squawking, Soaring Crows

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Squawking, Soaring Crows

A bent-open paper clip
A cigarette butt
A half-eaten carton of Chinese take-out
A used condom
A dry lizard corpse
A crushed Coke can

It's 7:45 p.m. and
I am plodding to my car
Through the empty parking lot
All the way to the street
Because there were no parking spaces
When I arrived this morning

Suddenly
Overhead
A chorus of squawking crows
Bursts into song:

Cawing and cackling and
Soaring and swirling and
Darting and diving and dancing

Calling my tired eyes
Up from the ground
To the heavens above

And my bent-open-paper-clip-cigarette-butt-
Half-eaten-carton-of-Chinese-take-out-used-condom-
Dry-lizard-corpse-crushed-Coke-can-
Life
Is
Transformed


     

 

           

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Poetry is what is lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

ruthayres’s Poems (2)

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