there's this old crow,

comes around most mornings to perch in
the momma pine who
sowed her chil'ren
down *****.

The crow seems to speak through a bluetooth
of nature

he caws asif conversing, re-plying layers
of nuance on my mileau.

Listen, I say to him,
I want you to be my friend.

He sits, quiet.
Not disturbing my peace.

I take that for a yes.