Oh, hey there crows

what do YOU know?
Over and over, we sang
our song while the crows

flew near, followed us as
we made our way home,
hopped about as though

their feet had touched hot coals.
How odd it looked when their
heads bobbed up and down,

beaks wide open, screeching
caw caw as though talking
to us, dark beady eyes

fixed on our play. A few crows,
then a few more, turned their
bodies to the afternoon sun,

fluffing up their ebony feathers,
others cooling while perched in
the old pines. Was their plan

in place? To chase us?
We were small but we put it
together. My sister’s hand gave

me confidence, we walked in silence,
then gained momentum, the old pines
swayed, waited.