I sit on my front porch, amused
by the family I see in the woods
in front of my house.
All up and down the expanse
of a half-fallen tree, three youngsters
sit, calling out for help–food
or guidance. They flap their wings
in startled surprise, crane their necks
to find their patient parents
watching from overhanging branches
of a nearby pine, their own feathers
smooth and glossy. You will be ok,
they seem to say. There is time,
time enough to learn your place
and how to move among the trees.
This much and more I have learned
from watching and listening
to the domestic affairs of crows.
Sherry Poff
Sherry Poff writes in and around Ooltewah, Tennessee. She holds an M.A. in writing from The University of Tennessee and is member of the Chattanooga Writers’ Guild. Recent work has appeared in Teach.Write., Speckled Trout Review and Equinox.