Counting Crows in My Front Yard - a poem
April 3, 2024
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They have gathered again, 41 last time
I checked. The sound of crowing reaches
me even in the back bedroom. They will
leave a carpet of black feathers (always
do) and I will seek some use for them.
I have black quills enough to write Never-
more a thousand times over and crow
feathers hardly make for a decent pillow.
I step out the front door and they take
off a…
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