By Kay Renz
Crow walks across the road
in front of my car this morning.
Sun in my eyes I almost don’t see
the ebony gleam, sleek, glistening,
as she ambles cool, collected.
Pausing I ask, “What does it mean,
This sky creature earthbound, strolling
in deliberate nonchalance?”
…it is said crow lives in two worlds
earth and sky, body and spirit as one
who is always transitioning,
This one peering up
at me behind the wheel,
as I steer the vehicle that could be her death
could teach me something about living
in more than one world. What?
Crow knows human drives through life
too often without attention, without heeding
things of earth, yet though she can rise quickly
out of danger, she stays on the path, waddling,
head bobbing, cawing complaints.
In her groundedness, am I to read the message
of non-flight, the message of slow pace,
take the risk of doing the unexpected
as I travel toward an end goal– to get to
the other side?
Despite the honking behind us, this small being
demands respect. With my car in the lead, she
forces traffic to a crawl. As I inch past, she hops on curb,
lifts head, spreads great black wings, and opening her throat,
Thank you Kay!
(used by permission)