This past winter was pretty mild for Pennsylvania, so I took as many walks as I could throughout the weeks. There’s just something haunting about grey days, chilly damp, the caw of crows in the silence, when the neighborhood finally stops moving and making noise for a minute. If you close your eyes, it feels like you could easily be transported to another time, another place. Maybe that’s just me!
Flash of black and a rustle of branches
Their caw scares away the small birds.
The chill and grey sky match my mood, the last icy fingers of February sneak below my scarf.
The trees look different in the meager daylight–remind me of a forest from long ago.
Now replaced by suburban sprawl, tidy looking yards, and simple houses
that continue on towards the low horizon.
The two crows land high on a maple tree, observant of the world below.
The rain continues to fall, I walk on,
Together they watch me, curious, yet distant. Wishing I could join them on their arrogant perch,
away from the world of flightless (mindless?) beings below.