The boy first noticed the crow on a quiet day
It called to him, caw, caw, from a high branch,
The crow tilted his head,
The crow was looking back.

The next day, the boy returned and called to the crow “hello crow! Caw caw”
The crow swooped down,
its blue black feathers reflecting the light.
The boy smiled as the crow circled above.

The next day, as the boy was lacing up his boots his father asked
“Where are you going?”
The boy answered, “To visit the crow.”
And his father frowned,
“Crows are no good, they eat our crops. One crow is a crow too many.”

“Not this crow!” said the boy. “He calls to me and makes circles in the sky.”

“No crows” the boy’s father scolded as he handed him the gun.

The boy went out to find his friend
The crow called to him, caw, caw,
but this time, the boy didn’t call back. The crow saw the silver of the gun.
He spread his wings wide,
and began to rise, to fly circles in the sky. Remember little boy how beautifully I fly?

The boy raised the gun and
The crow fell from the sky,
wings folding as he hit the ground- plop. Stillness.

And the boy turned away
He didn’t look back
At the blue black feathers reflecting the light.