I saw this particular crow on a cold April afternoon at Zuma Beach.
The Crow
Fucked-up crow
in a jumpsuit too small for a sparrow
bird eyes gouged out last migration,
but a sense of direction still.
The Crow (poem)
felicity "fee" doyle
freedom-fighting vagabond with a heart built of solid milk chocolate – Writings on Beer, Poetry, Food, Art, and general ponderings.
felicity "fee" doyle 