Creation
Crows caw at full volume,
one contingent in the apple tree
west of the house,
another in the maple to the east,
loud enough so that Great-Uncle Ernest,
the patriarch of the flock,
who everyone knows dropped
his hearing aids when flying low
over the Connecticut River last week,
can hear what they are saying.
The crow-versations go on for long
interminable minutes,
rending the morning air,
ripping it to shreds.
And then the birds are gone
as abruptly as they arrived,
following Ernest to a new location,
leaving the morning as silent
and still as the day She created it,
before unwittingly giving
voice to these, Her winged creatures.
Mary Ellen Shaughan is a native Iowan who now lives in Western Massachusetts. Her poetry has appeared in numerous journals and magazines. Her first volume of poetry, Home Grown, is available on Amazon.
Amethyst Review 