somewhere a crow is mourning
black about his shoulders
as he grieves
yesterday in numbing traffic
his mate was struck
head crushed
wing punched
flung to hot bitumen
by late-day speed
plucked out of her
brief tree
her coupledom
while he hopped round
her fluttering
and stayed when she was
still
that bird — once weaving air
and gathering earth
now a smear on tar
and somewhere a crow is mourning
black about his shoulders
as he grieves.
Julie Watts (Western Australia)
First published in Julie’s book Honey & Hemlock, Sunline Press 2013.
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