Bang on a Can

The crows are here the crows are here the crows are here. It's a late fall dawn and all is a blue gray twilight. Where I am...safe. Quiet. Except for the caw...caw...caw of the crows. They're very social, you know. Many different calls to signify let's stay for a while, let's move on, distress. They help each other. I read once that a boy nursed a sick crow to health and it wouldn't leave his side thereafter. What was I dreaming? Emily's warmth next to me. One still day last summer I came out onto the lawn and there was this great big crow, and he was sitting on the grass with his wings spread out. They're smart animals, you know. Wary. --Virgil Moorefield