CORBIES

Often my thoughts,

woven in the air,

are descended upon

by crows who find them,

one eye at a time, and

eat them like corn in a field,

or fly off with them to sit

on a limb just out of sight.

They strut and nod then

spit them back at me

in raucous amusement.

Their caws, all true,

make me bow

to their wisdom.

Reviews

[Beccy]

So often those thoughts of ours are stolen away before we have time to put pen to paper. Let us hope those 'Corbies' keep spitting them back, rather than making a selfishly greedy meal of them. -:)

'As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t’other say,
‘Where sall we gang and dine to-day?’

Beccy.

[Vol]

Beccy,
I don't know what happened to my comment on your review! It was the next verse...
read moreBeccy,
I don't know what happened to my comment on your review! It was the next verse...
"‘In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair."

She must have murdered him! And that is what makes the poem!

This site sometimes works like scrambled eggs.
Vol

[Beccy]

Most peculiar. That's twice now the message 'this comment has been deleted' has reared its head; plus, there is nothing more under 'read more,' in the reply that has finally landed. ??

Beccy.

[Vol]

That happens with some frequency, too... This site could really use a bit of serious revision. Again:
‘In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new-slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.

I love the intrigue... Did she kill him?
Vol

[Beccy]

We should perhaps leave the solving up to Poirot and his little grey cells; after all, 'tis a murder mystery. -:)

[Beccy]

We should perhaps leave the solving up to Poirot and his little grey cells; after all, 'tis a murder mystery. -:)

[Vol]

Beccy! hahahahaha! A small one, but in the case of murder, at least, size does not matter

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Crows have a fondness for shiny things, and I have a murder of them in my yard every day. For them to descend upon your thoughts and spit them back at you could be a gift.