The Watcher (Poem)

The sun was high and bathing brick,

As smoke leaked from loose lips.

The crow was stood, fixed and steady;

A feathered Nelson on streetlight column;

An ink wash silhouette on aqua sky.

I couldn’t see its gaze’s aim:

Its eyes were covered, black and hidden,

And sounds that caught its quick attention,

Sent its pointed head to flicking.

 

It watched me while I sipped my drink;

I felt it stare, from safety, judging

If I was danger, food, or neither.

I told it, softly, not to fear us,

And felt a drunken understanding,

Between this free and peaceful bird,

And one man barely standing.

 

by Harry Husbands

Crow

Watercolour painting by Bee Mai – check out her other work HERE!

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