While shoveling I heard a pigeon coo
and suddenly I felt a searing jolt
remembering the one near cut in two
that day a hawk came down like Zeus’ bolt,
which prompted me to ponder if I’d seen
a raven ever play the role of prey,
this morning they created quite a scene
but nothing seems to make them go away;
no other creature cares to take a bite
preferring to lay low when they’re around
until their raucous horde at last takes flight
the snowy valley ringing with the sound,
just proving what we all have come to know
that no one ever wants to swallow crow.
Are You Reading Me?
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