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Chad Otte


Red Crow


Red crow arrived
At once with a roar
Jumped up to the steps
And blew through the door

The red on his head
Was matched to his right
His feathers were trite
Being used through the night

He asked not to stay
But insisted on payment
I required no dance
To him a new ailment

After picking and pecking
And fluffing around
For him was sought judgement
And judgement was crowned

But true to a crow
What was left was found
Out through the door
And back to the town.

Submitted: Friday, January 28, 2011

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