After rereading, rethinking, and applying help from readers and friends, I have revised "Crows of the Lower Order." Let me know which version you prefer, if you would, please.
Crows (a revision)
Eight crows perch subserviently
Eyes petulant, waiting
Delegated to the lower rungs of the electric tower.
A hawk above them preens in her perch.
Today’s catch, squirrel or rat,
Her beak poised, a chisel ready.
Impatient, two crows hop upward.
The hawk flaunts his wingspan; they retreat.
Twin jet trails split the blue sky, jets roar in the distance,
Preparing for the expected, the public war.
A dust devil stirs the dirt, spinning across barren land.
A tug, a reminder. I move on with my dogs,
My heart a scavenged tendon,
My home, no longer my own.
Copyright 2007, Eileen Clemens Granforsour work here...
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|Reviewed by Andrew Shipley
|I'm sorry I cannot answer your question as to which version I prefer. I like them both.|
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|Again, you provoke thought very eloquently. This is worthy of more than a single reading. Thank you. Love and best wishes,