Crumbs For Crows (a poem)

I haven’t written a poem in quite some time, years actually, so this will surely be read as a poor attempt. Don’t be too harsh in your opinions, honest but not too harsh. I’m fragile yah know. 🙂

Crumbs For Crows

Thoughts dropped


The wipe of a mouth


Damned falling bits of things

A crow’s right

We sit on lightposts





Hover busy highway or

Lonely humble back otherway

Sometimes with a God’s wink snark as you pass underneath


Or around the long way

With a caww’s call

To friends

In just not enough light

We sit on lawns, flitting away’s easy flight of raised hand only to return

Sifting through around mad divide, anger a thing these days

We sit on sideways with defiance to remind

We even cousin famous sit in old haunting odes, though this isn’t one of them

We sit waiting ask just what is your crumb’s point

Get it right and we won’t pick you clean

… bones

No muddle middles

Just get it right

… bones

Pick you clean

We sit and figure how to use small stones to build things

Beyond you

We are here there to best you

We’re still

Were still

Are still

Will still

Knock knock


While we wait … always waiting …

We got those leavings,

Those thoughts




Picking, pecking

And we dance

Over them

In sideslide Crow clack steps

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