Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
there's this old crow, comes around most mornings to perch in the momma pine who sowed her chil'ren down slope. 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.
0
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC
A black feather treaty
there's this old crow, comes around most mornings to perch in the momma pine who sowed her chil'ren down slope. 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.
Peace, be still
kenpepiton
Written by
77/M/Pine Valley CA
Jul 28, 2019
Jul 28, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem