One morning, I slid open the windowand spied a jungle crow
sitting on a branch of the frangipani.
Through tired eyes it looked at me.
The black feathers were dull and weary.
The eyes beneath a worn grey forehead,
appeared to beseech
for a place to rest.
I looked at the bird again.
The beak was long
and curved and sharp.
I slowly drew the window slides.
When I looked out
the crow was gone.
Hello Alaka
ReplyDeleteHow did we go separate ways when we have so much in common?
I'll mail you.
look forward to it, Fred!
ReplyDeleteThat's a haunting story Alaka.
ReplyDeleteThe crow needed you and you were ready to be kind.
But some inner instinct made it fly away. It needn't have.
Do we make mistakes because of our instincts? Aren't instincts supposed to guide us?
I was thinking of my favourite bush...the frangipani...when I saw your post.
You painted a clear picture with this one.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.kimnelsonwrites.com/2011/06/27/in-the-vein-of-francis-bernardone/
hAS a nice haunting quality to it.
ReplyDeletevery nice :)
Luna
your words painted a beautiful scene here.
ReplyDeletewell done.
nice
ReplyDeletecan feel the silence
draws one in
Thank you.. Kim, Luna, Jingle, Lioness..
ReplyDeleteWhat we once viewed with mercy can often turn to fear with closer speculation when understanding is unclear.
ReplyDeleteThe jungle crow was sitting on the frangipani branch with dull and weary eyes he somehow put me in a trance. Beseeching me to bid him stay amid this place of green to rest awhile upon the flowering fragrance seemed obscene. As he was haggard with a beak so long and sharp as glass. His talons spread to grip the branch that bent to touch the grass. And as I thought to shoo him from my lovely blossomed lawn, he spread his shiny wings of black and whoosh - the bird was gone!
Oh, I loved your poem!
Kay, you've explained it so well.
ReplyDeleteAt times there are layers of unspoken interaction.. with our own selves vis-a-vis something..
Vivid imagery, loved it!
ReplyDeletethanks, Mind :)
ReplyDelete