A daily ritual which I hate to miss. In the Spring and Summer or on a nice Autumn day I like to sit outside and wait for the Corvids flight. If it is cold and wet I watch from my bedroom window as they pass over our roof. I live in a very rural area of North Yorkshire surrounded by fields, crops, sheep and race horses in the field adjoining our gardens.
Awaken early morning to a darkened sky
no stars or moon to spread the light.
Dark silhouettes of trees and blurred outlines
subtle changes as the light creeps.
The Sun rises on the far side of the horizon.
Fingers of light reach over and spread,
outlines sharpen and become clear
as the daily miracle takes place.
The morning ritual begins as the
Corvid flocks start to appear.
First in one's or two's
then in dozens and scores appear
followed by hundreds in wave after wave.
They chatter and call as they pass overhead
gliding on thermals with an occasional flap.
Swirling and dipping they're all flying South.
Some alight on wires to rest for a while
others fly on and disappear
into a hidden veil of haze or mist.
How far have they flown
since leaving their nests,
how far will they travel before returning home?
I will be waiting and watching for their return
as the sky darkens and evening falls.
So delightful to read, Jackie. A common place thing that you have made magic. It's good to see you back posting.
I recall crows many times and my use in Wisconsin. Especially one road trip with my uncle when we were counting them allowing the road and his sharp eyes so far more than with any of us.
Where I live here in Houston I have rarely seen crows.
But a few days ago I did see four or five of them fly over and it was rather new to me. Perhaps they are migrating to another food source as summer turns to fall.
Each person is but a grain of sand resting beside the sea. This thought sets the tone for Jill Eisnaugle’s latest poetry collection, Beside Still Waters.
Contraband Marriage, traveling along the hemline of loving after incarceration, is a love story written in lyric and free form, set in reality with a different ever after.
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I recall crows many times and my use in Wisconsin. Especially one road trip with my uncle when we were counting them allowing the road and his sharp eyes so far more than with any of us.
Where I live here in Houston I have rarely seen crows.
But a few days ago I did see four or five of them fly over and it was rather new to me. Perhaps they are migrating to another food source as summer turns to fall.
Ron