Crows

crows

Once, many centuries ago, there were no crows. The world was void of the oil soaked feather birds–nothing but doves and canaries to stare at.

The branches of the golden curls willow swayed in a breeze scented by jasmine and honeysuckle–empty as a baby-less pram. No caws. No taunts. Nothing but coo’s and tweets.

What an empty world it must have been without their wit and charm. I am happy I will never know that world. For the crow–and all it’s murderous charm, is the hope I need.

A scavenger.

A humorist.

A hero.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s