the caw, was  heard,
it was a crow, the bird,
black in daylight,
shredding with the
pointed beak and skill,
probably road ****,
or a left over side of fries,
in a paper brown bag
with arches, golden,
the risk of being in
the roadway was worth,
the treasure and the squabble
with his or her crow friends
and one attention deficit gull,
                             he was dull,
and slower than the others,
he was white among his black
feathered brothers, sisters
they are smart
these crows as
they knows them
cars that pass just, so
close keep the curb in
reach and don't go
beyond the line,
while the gull of the sea,
would walk on the out
side of the circle nearer
to traffic and cars swiftly,
rush by, the crows kept
moving pushing the gull
toward the road way,
he had stepped over the line
assumed they were friends,
they all knew he would get
it in the end, the front end
of a rusty tow truck.

Road **** to share, poor gull
don't stare, just be quick,
and beak it while it is still fresh.


©DWE102013