Today a short poem by Sandra Horn that with few words suggests the Crows mythical heritage.
I see you, Crow,
Side-stepping , neat along the fence,
Head down, wings folded just so,
tentative, polite –
‘May I have just that little crumb?
May I? Really? How very, very kind.
I know you, Crow,
I’ve seen the lightning flash behind your eyes,
Heard you call up thunderclouds,
topple trees with one clap of your wings,
open your beak and shatter the sky.
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