There was garbage in the middle of the road and a crow had stopped to eat it
when she was stuck
by a car.
swooped by her
pulling at her black wings
trying to revive her, cawing.
Soon the tree in my front yard was full of black, cawing crows.
Over and over a crow would fly over her
all of the rest of them cawing,
heads back as if gulping
some invisible rain,
while random cars made less of her each time they edged over the line.
the traffic lessened and
there was nothing left of her
and the tree emptied of
I tryed to tell a neighbour about it but before I could she said, “I HATE crows!”