Thirteen Crows at the Fir Buffet- A winter poetic diversion

13 crows,

sitting in my tree,

p-e-c-k-i-n-g,

dancing on branches for the kitty crunchies,

first comes one,

then comes three,

now 13 crows are sitting in my tree.

Usually they caw,

they flap and prance,

and do their little 'feed us!' dance,

but now that they know I've heard and obey,

they pipe down to keep the seagulls away.

Lacy snowflakes drifting past,

streets below slick as glass,

13 crows, heads bowed, shuffling fast

silently saying Kitty Crunchy Mass.

Winter has come to roost at last.

Suzanne Ballard has sent us this wonderful url about crow lore. CLICK HERE for all you ever want to know about the mystical, hilarious crow...