Treasure Island

Mark Pollins

(29.11.62 / London, England)

Counting Crows


Jumping, sliding along a blue rail,
The crow seems at home next to the half-eaten somethings
On plates, in the open-air restaurant.
Another one, cheekier than the first, lands
On one of the white plates, pecks, attacks a piece of dry bread.
The loud resonating tune the four crows make –
A celebration of crumb and dried something, perhaps –
Causes me to feel at home, at ease with them.

Submitted: Thursday, October 11, 2007
Edited: Saturday, April 16, 2011

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