I’ve made friends now with this crow, I seem to see frequently. The other day, it literally flew in front of me. My mind tried to figure out “why” I was seeing this crow repeatedly. I had to stop and acknowledge it’s presence to see the magic of this being showing itself, and let it provide it’s gift. This is the third in a series of crow poems I’ve written.
“black crow gypsy”
My black crow gypsy friend
You arrive again
Playing on the edge of a black pick-up truck
Your wings a sleek velvet coat
Your familiar black-eyed-gaze
Your music silent, today.
I ask you, ancestor, “why?”
I step forward
and see the past become a moving shadow
like a caravan of crows flying through dust.
My wish for all beings is to see the magic of all that is in our everyday. It’s so easy to forget the magic of life that we once had as children. As a little girl, I lived a life in fairy tales, filled with magical beings, and stories that were real. I spent time in nature and played with fairies, made friends with animals, climbed trees, and created hiding spaces in leaves. I can’t say much has changed; however, now I see daily the reality that some children live in. Too many children know hunger, neglect, malnourishment, disease, and broken homes, and I truly wish for them to know the true magic of childhood and to have the chance to have a childhood without suffering. May it be so.