I was out on the arroyo
early in the morning,
quietly coming up the hill,
when I surprised some kind of huge Hawk,
hunting
for a meal down along the growth
on the steep sides;
and the flock of young
Crows,
hunting and pecking for breakfast
all along the cleaned farmer's fields.
Of
course, no matter what I said,
their wisdom told them to skedaddle,
so they
did, the lot of them,
graceful and young
and shining black
with beautifully
edged wings,
all taking off and calling to one another,
maybe about the plan,
for the next stop.
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