The repeated cawing of the crow

Was that a warning of some sort
when that crow swooped low, inches above my head to let out a shriek?
Just how did I get to this spot,
on this straight road leading me onto the hazy, distant horizon?
There’s 12 black birds glaring down from the wire,
and another solemnly sitting atop a fence post;
all observing my every move with quiet, mocked disdain.
I can only stare back in silence at my judge and jury for
is there any point in shaking a fist into the air, or hanging my head to avert my eyes?
The early afternoon sun hangs high in the sky
I’ve broken into a warm, dripping sweat
and turning my face to the light, gentle breeze, it carries nothing but
whispers of doubt and unanswered propositions from my past.
No solace. No relief. No comfort on this road, in coming to terms with my inquisitors.
The repeated cawing of the crow is unnerving; so too the black birds’ unrelenting stare.
If only this high wire act would share their insight:
what is it that they see on the horizon, and why do they glare at me so?


– Chris George

July 2013

Chris George has released “Almonte and the summer of 2013 that was”, a compilation of 10 poems. The verses capture the expectations raised in moving into a new community and making a new start. They also include personal reflections of a writer’s challenges to begin again, afresh. If you are interested in receiving “Almonte and the summer of 2013 that was” – write – and provide your e-mail.

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