The Crow Poem by I, Mongoose

Apart from the buzzing of fellow men
I sit alone in self-exile's den;
With none to speak and none to hear
Secrets whispered in solitude's ear.
Bedecked in a robe of flowing repose
Contentment with This; Here; grows.

Geese honk and squawk overhead
In the social V formation led.
A speck of black in a faraway field:
Silence to its caw, cawing yields.
Dampened by distance
An unseen resistance.
I haven't an answer to voice,
Perhaps he too is solitary by choice,
The better to sing a wand'ring rejoice.