Crows and Doves
by Mary Audrey Kneipp
All morning the crows were in my yard,
feathers blacker than ink, and in the eaves
a spaced-out row of doves, soft gray.
The cawing sound of ark-ark rises skyward,
while the doves’ soft cooing soothes away
the stark dark previous night.
Tearing the peace apart today, I sneezed
so loudly I know the neighbors heard,
but not one bird took notice.
Do they perceive I’m harmless
and even, if they understand it, kind?
The crows can tell, I think.