Poetry from NHI publications

I like you crow. you stand there
Admiring me and never quibble.
Communication is through your deep
Dark eyes that hardly ever blink.

Assertively you know your place,
Allow me mine. Your memory
Of far away places does not hinder
Me. Your blackness is not that

Of foreboding; grey feathers* on your
Breast are not of ageing. Perhaps
Of pride, disdain or approbation:
Medals of distinction! Your message

Is simple: Where there is food
You are at peace. My own peace
Does not relate to food but to a past
Which is deep that I cannot recall.

My agitation and pain deter me.
Deter others; interactions diminish.
Loneliness demands of them a tolerance
You yourself behold, You, Boyar of old,

Probably prefer crows.
The Smile of Lies
ISBN 0 903610 19 1

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* The grey and black crows of Minsk may well be hybrids between Hooded and Carrion crows.

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