Crows have taken the nearby point,
dark shadowy forms
against rough hewn rock,
reed-like feet an after thought
to their coal black feathers.
Speaking in crow when one returns,
with stories gathered from the sea,
of how she stirs, lifting her veil,
shocking us with her ancient face –
us I say though featherless
and clumsy as a falling leaf,
but smart enough beside the crows
to wait upon her beauty.
A precious testimony to our Oneness.
Here on our ranch, we have a resident flock of crows. They spend their days in the most interesting ways, avoiding human contact but ever-present and creatively gathering what the Lord provides. They communicate with knowing voices. Just one of the endless manifestations of His glorious creation.
Old Montana family story that if a crow’s tongue is split, it can be taught to speak human words. But, if one dwells in the Earth’s mysteries, such manipulation is just that!
Listen in Crow and gather intelligence for one’s own true story… one of many voices in the Land from which to gather.
Crows used to annoy me but not now. Crows speak loud and remind us that we are not the only ones that can chatter, squawk and make noise. Their noise speaks louder than our and sometimes scares us when they are in large groups reminding us that we are not the “only ones”. They speak their truth without our permission and are great teachers.
Don your poem gives voice to their truth.