Crows Day: Taking two looks

     Here's take two renamed, and reshaped , literally, thanks
to Judy's discerning eye and the feedback of moapg
contributors.  I've included the original at the bottom so
that you might compare.

Best,
Stephen


CROW’S DAY

They know we’re here

I hoot
imitating the owl heard in the dark
to chase the crows
in the backyard

They  hunch in their black winged splendor
carrion eaters
calling to each other like some
dark game of marco polo

  Earlier
              two hawks pass in the trees
       perching for a moment outside my window
I ponder their identity as predators
large as  bowling pins
                                      silent as a dream

             I do not know their names
but they are warriors

Later
a solitary hawk
flutters through the sky
         attacking and fleeing
                                        a clatter of crows
        social eaters of the dead.

Now
for the third evening in a row
two large crows sit on a tall tree
overlooking the garden
cawing
reedy
loud
clear as a nightmare

the crows see me cup my hands to my mouth
calling the night-stalker owls
to kill them as they sleep
and rob their nests in the dark

Their sharp high calls return my call
like a bully's taunt
a call and response
of threat and defiance

The two crows watch
unmoving,
until I carry the sound
of the owl under their tree
where they cannot see me

then there is the wet black flap of silent flight

I look up and see their dark bodies fall for a moment
before rising on the invisible sea of air.

***************************

They Know We're Here

I hoot
imitating the owl heard in the dark
to chase the crows
in the backyard

They  hunch in their black winged splendor
carrion eaters of despair
calling to each other like some
dark game of marco polo

Earlier two hawks passed in the trees
perching for a moment outside my window
I pondered their identity as predators
large as  bowling pins
silent as a dream
I do not know their names
but they are warriors

Later a solitary hawk
flutters through the sky above the trees
in rapid flight
the killer bird bobs and weaves
attacking as it flees
the crows
social eaters of the dead.

Now, for the third evening in a row
two large crows sit on a tall tree
overlooking the garden where I am standing

Cawing reedy loud clear as a nightmare
the crows see me cup  my hands to my mouth
calling the night-stalker owls
to kill them as they sleep
and rob their nests in the dark

Their sharp high calls return
my call
like a bully's taunt
a call and response
of threat and defiance

The two crows watch, unmoving,
until I carry the sound
of the owl under their tree
where they cannot see me
then there is the wet black flap of silent flight

I look up and see their dark bodies fall for a moment
before rising on the invisible sea of air.