Stepping outside I find
mere feet from my door
two large crows
in a leafless tree.
Too large for its naked branches,
motionless,
with vitreous eyes,
they look like clockwork birds,
but in their gaze I see
wary minds
appraising me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a fine, provocative piece. Crows are brave birds. They survive whatever the weather.. Regards, Sandra Fowler