I hear the crows cawing
outside my apartment
at least a hundred fold
they’ve come back again
I never know from where
I don’t know why they
always return
cawing loudly as if
celebrating a reunion
perhaps it is a reunion
held every few months
where they talk and
boast about their
different adventures
stuff they’d stolen
battles they’ve won
birds they fled from
after pirateering
their nests and
curious humans
they seen doing
curious things.

Bob Boyd