Morning

Sun breaks through
guava and lavender clouds.
Geese scramble
into a ragged V,
honking directions
and flight plans.

Under an elm
I stand and watch,
breathing the chill
see-your-breath air,
as ravens patrol
the neighborhood.

From tree to tree
they flutter
calling cries of warning,
then land on the street
to inspect something
of importance.

A call to meeting.
A dozen ravens
flock to the spot
investigating,
milling about,
squawking,
deciding.

An orange cat
silently scurries
across the street.
The ravens scatter
in all directions.
Now quiet
and peace.




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