a bird is on the top twigs
of tallest tree
down the path
swaying in the breaths of wind
effortless balancing act of
impressive proportions
I get my binoculars & see that it’s a
crow
black feathers preening in the sway
it’s no doubt speaking
a prophet of things to come
sun
or cloud
cold
or warmth
love
or hate
soil
or stones
life
or death
but I cannot hear
I only see the topmost sight
& then it slowly takes wing
the message sent
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