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Corvid Feasts

03 Jan

It's a magpie--cousin to the raven.

        Raven Musings

I cast my clever raven gaze
about, sitting still except
to turn my head and look.
A scavenger life—it’s not easy
to make a living every day.

Garbage is good—a feast
to fill the belly.
Easy peckings.
Dog food. It’s a balanced diet
except they bark so,
chase after me.
Ha! As if they could fly.

Eggs are the best.
Fat slow sage hens
flap up and try
to draw me away.
What do they think—
that I’m a coyote?

Songbirds try to hide
their tiny eggs
from my raven eye.
Ha! Only a snack,
quick but tasty.

Those newborn lambs—
now there’s some bang for the buck,
Good luck for my beak.
I seek those napping babies
sated from the first suck
of mother’s milk.

Land, hop, outsmart
those big white canines.
Coyote thinks he’s clever
But he alarms the dogs,
not me. Ha!

Just a quick peck to the eye,
a stiletto to the brain
quick as a wink.
That woolly baby disemboweled
I spy with my raven eye—
dinner.

Trickster, indeed.

Caw! Caw!

 
1 Comment

Posted by on January 3, 2012 in Nature and Wildlife, Poetry

 

One response to “Corvid Feasts

  1. Ruth Hellman

    September 26, 2012 at 8:55 AM

    Harsh…real…beautiful. I never knew that they could/would go through the eye. This poem made me think of Mary Oliver, another poet of nature who doesn’t shrink from death.

     

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