#1101794 added November 17, 2025 at 10:30am Restrictions: None
Old Crow
Old Crow
Old crow survivor
always comes out top,
both passenger and driver
when searching for his crop.
“Carrion’s my bag,” he says
“and that can mean whate’er
I find or steal or possess
it doesn’t really matter.
“What counts is I am fed,
the easier the better,
and so to rest my head
when sun becomes a setter.”
And so with many a caw,
he shouts triumphantly -
“Go feed behind your door,
and I’ll master what I see.”
Line count: 16
Rhymed abab
For Promptly Poetry Challenge 6, Week 13
Prompt: Write a poem about a bird! Any bird, any color, your choice!
Note: This not all I have to say about crows but it’s all he cares about. Some day I may write more on my perspective.
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