CROW TREE

It’s just a tree, a nondescript tree,

Anonymous, like everyone else here,

Growing from the edge of the asphalt

Where cars park for the tenement two doors down.

The tree is a survivor, it HAS to be

You gotta be tough to live in the urban

Jungle I call home. Bad things happen here.

Even the squirrels pack heat in my neighborhood.

Something different with this tree,

In the summer regular green foliage

That drops in the fall and as winter comes

Is replaced by clumps of shiny black leaves that caw.

Caw? These must be crows, not leaves,

And this must be what they call a crow tree

Where these birds yard up when it gets cold

For companionship, and the warmth of body heat.

Sometimes a dozen, sometimes more

They cling to the branches, sometimes still,

Sometimes inky wings all a-flap as they look

For some old crow buddy to share a bit of bird gossip.

“Hey Charlie..did you see the road kill

Down the street? Better go get your share

Before the seagulls and stray cats eat it all and

There’s nothing left but the bones and a grease spot”

“Nah Ernie I got a better gig…I found

An open dumpster from that diner over there.

Why don’t you and I go down and have breakfast?

Oh and invite the other guys. There’s plenty for everybirdy.”

“Watch out for them crazy white animals

With no feathers and that can’t fly. Damned

Critters hate us! Always chasing us away from

A good feed. Why can’t they go find their own grub?”

So it goes: yakking, scolding, preening

These black birdy-bird leaves; winter long

Flapping, cawing, arguing, crow-cussing. Live  foliage         On a nameless tree in the city where I live.                   September 29, 2009

                                          -Chip Bergeron