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Jian // Crow
February 26, 2022
A peasants wing divided, divine when combined,
When lonesome, a bird without flight,
With love only can wings unite.
A pitiful creature, for relying on another, but still, so full of delight.
The lone bird, perched on the tree.
Overhead, a flock, shaped tight and pact
A murmuration, mocking, laughing at the bird.
Once a hand extended,
Offering warmth
Offering protection
Offering food for the night,
Rescinded, yet to the closed window the bird keeps colliding.
Tumbling,
The bird takes cognizance,
He takes to the skies,
The lone swallow’s flight.
© Tina W., Fresh Meadows, NY
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