The Crow

5/5/20 update:  The wondrously creative Tracy at Reflections of An Untidy Mind saw my poem and invited me to link to her Corvid 2020 Weekly Challenge #7.  How could I resist?  Please take some time to peruse Tracy’s delightful blog and, while you’re there, consider participating in her challenge.  Thank you, Tracy dear!

Oops.  I’m a moron.  In my original post, I failed to realize that Christine Bialczak at Stine Writing was re-blogging Chelsea Ann Owens‘ The Weekly Hilarity Contest, which challenges us to “[w]rite a short story, poem, or really long sentence about [b]irds” so linked to and credited the wrong Blogger.  Christine & Chelsea, please forgive me.

Chelsea wants us to make her laugh, and I wrote the following quirky, silly poem, inspired by the works of one of my top literary heroes, with a twinkle in my eye and a smile on my lips.  I doubt if it will win the contest, but I’ll give bonus points for anyone who can name the author and particular poem that inspired it.  Enjoy, and please let me know what you think in my Comments section.  Oh, and don’t forget to check out Chelsea’s site and make your own contribution to this cool challenge!

The Crow

Grown weary of merely watching,

from the comfort of my covered deck,

the furtive scheming and solemn antics

of a murder of somber crows careening

from tree to skeletal tree,

 

I determined to lure one in,

if I could, to keep as my very own pet.

The plan, devised around research revealing that

crows bear grudges and recognize human faces,

required time, patience, persistence, and food.

 

If they can bear a grudge, thought I, surely they must

            also be capable of good will and attachment.

I ventured down from my lofty perch,

scattered generous handfuls of seed along

the border of their wood, retreated

 

but only a little, then daily repeated, retreating

less each time, watched closely for signs

of which ones might be warming, won over

by my beneficence, willing to suffer

my further encroachment.

 

They cawed amongst themselves without surcease,

a symphony of rough sawblades at work,

saying things like, I imagined, “This guy’s alright”, or

“I don’t trust him,” and “My, he sure is handsome!”

as they all grew fat and lustrous.

 

On a chill and rainy day, I swear one, set apart by

his notched beak and a particular glint

to his gaze, as frigid water sluiced

down the gutter of his beak-scar, and

he sidled closer, hopping, eyeing me,

 

said, “I am so damn ready to bust outta this woody prison!

No crow here gets me, I don’t fit in,”

he lamented, pecking seed from my palm with

more vigor than usual, raising his wings,

and I knew he was The One.

 

He walked up my arm, perched on my shoulder,

proceeded to preen my windblown, rainsoaked

curls with gentle beaky tugs and his tough, blue tongue.

Slowly at first but with growing assurance, I

turned, walked, mounted stairs, paused on my porch.

 

I could not welcome him into my home unchristened,

so with thoughts of his fabled distant cousin,

the raven, in fact, so aptly named by my

long-departed poetic hero Mr. Poe, I asked,

“How do you feel about the name Nepenthe,

 

noble crow, since I anticipate your presence

will bring me peace?”  He lifted midnight wings,

fluffed iridescent feathers, raised his princely head,

and cawed, magnificent, “Forevermore!”

So in we went.

–Via Chelsea Ann Owenss The Weekly Hilarity Contest for 5/3/20
–Via Ragtag Daily Prompt for 5/4/20, “twinkle”

And since Harley Kallisti’s blog shares its title with my crow’s name, I challenge The Nepenthe to offer a response.  Are you up for it, Harley?