A Crow Cacophony
by Scott Shaffer

resounds over the little lake behind our home;
we’re trying to savor breakfast in our four-seasons porch.

The murder’s din cuts the dawn’s calm,
slices through the streaming light–

praise for their Creator? No, their dissonant concert
celebrates a kill to partake of: A fighter-jet hawk has obliterated

a grackle bathing in our bubbling fountain outside the window.
Their discord pays no homage, but declares a homicide!

I turn off the fount’s flow, delightful melody; scrub the grisly remains.
When I flip the pump back on, the enchanting spring revives.

I ponder: every day, living creatures battle death out back … too often
my own mind is a battlefield–negative media, thoughts assault me.

Sometimes, I struggle to switch back to life’s hope and joy.
How can I keep fresh, lively water coursing through my soul?



 

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