Black and big like a crow
But standing upright and tall
A tuft of feathers form a peak on its head
A meowing sound like no other
It holds its spot on a broad, bare limb
No mind it pays to me or the dogs
It makes no move but to sing its song
A tingle would run down my spine
Were it a different bird
But who’s to say what its message was.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
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