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Leafs
by Gary E. Andrews - 03/04/24 12:47 PM
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Joined: Nov 2016
Posts: 239 Likes: 3
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A Murder of Crows (Wisdom's Wilderness) P.N.Crawford 2018
The coastal mountains rise beyond the ocean’s tidal reach,
And stand as sentries over clouds that cloak the sandy beach.
Cathedral spire trees adorn the range’s highest peak,
Their pinnacles are places nesting crows forever seek.
The crows will take the high ground from all enemies below,
The lowland, fraught with danger, is a place they seldom go.
They do it in great numbers called “a murder of the crows”,
The wisdom in this practice nearly every creature knows.
“Our Strength Will Give You Safety” is the motto of the birds,
The actions that support it make the saying more than words.
They’re often seen prevailing over Wolf, or Hawk, or Owl,
They mob and fight together against animal or fowl.
Tonight a silent danger slithers up the cedar bark,
To raid the corvid nest eggs from the shadows of the dark.
Crow Mother sitting vigil feels uneasiness within,
Vibrations from her nest twigs cause her warning to begin!
Her beak is wide and shrilling as she screams her danger call,
The snakebite comes so quickly she can’t feel the fangs at all.
Alarm is answered swiftly and the snake cannot retreat!
It’s locked from head to rattle in the clutch of corvid feet!
The rattler tries to struggle as his captors fly him high,
He writhes and jerks and wiggles as he plummets down to die!
The crows return to celebrate the victory they had gleaned,
The Mother Crow lay lifeless in the treetop’s tragic scene.
The dawn will come in sadness for the rookery of crows,
While they hold a reverent funeral as the early sunbeams glow.
Then raise their many voices in a ruckus loud and great,
As eight escort the fallen to her place at Heaven’s Gate.
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Joined: Jan 2009
Posts: 6,325 Likes: 4
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Hello, Again Perry. This is awesome! Great pictured story/poem. I could see all that was happening. You captured the day in the life of one of my favorite birds.
Thanks for sharing.
Douglas
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Joined: Nov 2016
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The name Crawford (one of many spellings) is a surname chosen by early Scottish families at the place on the hill where the crows ford the stream. They are known as the Clan of the Crow. The crow folklore was an important part of their lives, and watching their behaviors gave them warnings of what was soon to come (weather or intruders approaching for example).I wrote this poem with that relationship in mind:
Kindred Crow Perry Crawford 2015
When you fly to places Far across the shining sea, On heaven’s errands through the sky Will you be taking me?
To tell expectant mortals Who await you breathlessly, Your tales of sorrow or of joy Will you be taking me?
When you lead the ships to shorelines Eyes of men could not behold, To mark the spot for riches Made of silver and of gold,
Or warn of hidden secrets In the hearts of men untold, If I dreamed of going with you Would you think my wish too bold?
I don’t have black feathers That can glisten in the sun, Nor summon echoes with my cries That tell of things to come,
I don’t have the knowledge Of the judgments men must face, But long to travel with you When you take them to their place.
Ever present in the distance I stand waiting for a sign, That stands as invitation To arise in flight sublime,
To join a rowdy rookery Whose total number grows, And live raucously encompassed In a murder of the crows.
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