Perched crow—swaying, black shape far away,
just eye level with my second story window
crow’s feet holding on, dizzyingly high off the ground
settled on the tippy top branch, grasping firmly at twigs,
obliging them to bear its weight—it’s only for a moment
in time,
enough to shriek and caw to its mate
the tree branches sway, because of the crow or the cold breeze
who is to say
the sagacious bee 