Guess What?
Today an angry crow in a fir tree
Published a manifesto at me. Pack of clichés.
He was really pissed because the snow had covered his road kill
And left him nothing to eat but bittersweet.
He honed his beak, sending down a cold spray,
Flapped to the rusty fencepost. No improvement for either of us.
Consider now the fate of birds, rulers of air and earth,
Their millions chalking sea-rocks everywhere,
Clouds of them wheeling quickstep over wheat fields,
All the wide oceans spotted with gulls, goonies, pelicans.
