This is one marvelous poem from my talented friend Leslie Silton.
All Crows Are Not The Same
Why did I ever think that?
All crows are not the same.
Lined up on the outside railing,
it’s easy to see who’s who.
There’s a clever one
who knows how
to pick open the sugar packet with his beak –
and like that ambitious thief, leaves nothing behind.
Or the bird who inches toward a table
(attended still by unhurried diners)
and stares fixedly
at the almost detritus of bread and salad.
One would-be pilferer
feigns disinterest
but remains on station waiting …
Abruptly they disband into flight –
all except two:
the one who pretended he didn’t care
(and is about to reap the benefit
of human departure, a waiter straggling)
and the smallest of the errant flock
because this may be the only chance he gets
to eat
(at all).
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