Black Bird

You know what they do in the movies when a horse goes lame

And I have made the call when my dogs have lost their ability to walk and judged their quality of
life to be taking a down turn

But this crow I happened upon one morning was just lying there,
up against a rock wall banking the edge of the sidewalk. Its head tilted slightly in my direction.

I almost missed it entirely but then spoke softly to it; but nothing.
Eyes blinking back
it's quiet glossy black response.

A still bird on the ground, not moving
with me only inches away seemed not a good sign.
It seemed peaceful though or peacefully dying or
healing or thinking about its options.
My thoughts somewhat the same- is this misery? Should I do something?

Then days later
the crow stood again motionless atop a large rock along the
same wall. A now-lost Maltese Falcon, back from the sea, hoping to blend in.

Finally one last time, in a driveway across the street, with another
corvus friend cawing nearby. A cheerleader or companion or bodyguard,
on point dissuading and random intruder
from a not-well chum, or cousin or mate.

The crow’s now gone or gotten better or worse
or it simply vanished from this bit of geography
to the place that all crows fly to each night, just before dusk.

Never More