The Crow

Was it because

at last

I cleaned the window

that he threw himself

against the glass?

I thought, poor crow—

he doesn't know

the evergreens

and blue sky

are behind him.

I turned back

to my page

but whumpp—

the bird attacked

the glass again.

His long claws

scuffled at the pane

and I yelled "Crow!

Go away!"

Again his body slapped

the glass,

again

and then again,

and then at last

he caught my eye—

oh, prophet,

terrified.