A New Poem

Hi all,

I was inspired to write this poem when I saw a several crows lined up on a roof top in Lawrence late this afternoon.

Happy Hour

At the end of the day
flocks of crows make their way
through the city like cars on the streets.
They fly and perch, flap a bit further, stop again,
just like the traffic on Union Street.
Moving from telephone line to tree top,
they line the roof edge as if they've arrived at the bar for a quick beer.
A way station, they chatter loudly before heading home for the night.