Crow, inspecting my lawn with your small family,
domestic, industrious, it seems you have
something important to say.
Other birds may be more melodious singers,
more graceful walkers, but few have that spark
of cleverness in their eyes.
Few are so sleek their feathers shine,
few so wise they nod sagaciously
as they strut along the ground.
Crow, soaring above, your night-black wings
spread wide. Below, with your broad beak,
you help the dead find a clean end.
Tell me the old tale of the long-ago crow
who showed Cain how to bury Abel
by scratching in the dirt.
Tell me the singular poem you would write
if your toes held a pen, the poem you recite
to your eggs as they hatch.
Ode to the Crow
Sally Zakariya’s poetry has appeared in some 100 print and online journals and been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Her most recent publication is Something Like a Life (Gyroscope Press). She is also the author of Muslim Wife, The Unknowable Mystery of Other People, Personal Astronomy, When You Escape, Insectomania, and Arithmetic and other verses, as well as the editor of a poetry anthology, Joys of the Table. Zakariya blogs at www.butdoesitrhyme.com.