Strange,
it seems to me,
I
hear the cawing crows
outside
on a cold day of
gray.
Seems curious, I
rarely
notice them on a
warm
and sunny spring
or
summer’s day.
Appears
to be on those
milder
days, robin,
starling,
sparrow and
blue
jay have more to say.
Much
as I do, crows prefer
the
bitter cold and gray,
a
perfect fit for those oftimes
deep
and melancholy
winter
days.
Anyway,
rugged and sturdy
old
bird, the crow, I’d say,
defiantly
decrying their
displeasure
on those frozen
and
dreary times of gray.
As
history claims, Edger
Allen
Poe preferred to use
the
raven to ratify his down-
trodden
and beleaguered
emotional
state.
Around
these Midwestern
parts,
the crow in winter
speaks
much more fittingly
to
me. In any case, I find
myself
absorbed in
Nevermore,
such a lovely
and
relatable word for a
somber
heart on cold and
gray
winter’s day.
Chris
Hanch 12-3-19
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