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Ode To The Crow

Ode to the crow
that finds its way
to fly straight home
on this most terrible day.

Through gusts of wind it takes flight
through rain and storm
through dark and light.
We cower down at the sight of bad weather
and it lands when its done
not missing a feather.

We act as though the world revolves around us.
yet when the finger is pointed
all we do is gripe and fuss.
we set our traps of jealousy
to capture which we yearn most
A white lie here and a grin of deciet
we are determined to make all
bow down at our feet.

through dust in ash
where all you can hear
is a wallowing cry
I say ode to the crow
that continues to fly.

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