Frank Wilson

Poem of the Month

Story of the Month

 

Crows in the Apple Tree

Not sure they like apples

but then again

they are clever awkward, ornery creatures so who knows?

 

I don’t trust them as they remind me much of interactions

with other doubtful characters

on two legs

with unreliable eyes in remembered places far away

who stole my time, allegiance, enthusiasm and even my reputation

before taking eager flight.

 

This pair lack the decency to stay away for good and ever

but give me occasional reminders

as they peer

short-sighted through the desiccated foliage

like questionable long-dead ancestors withholding their approval

of my unsatisfactory behaviour.

 

They spread winged uncertainty amongst the ancient boughs

with no reliable tomorrows

and creep

into my mind to demonstrate that expectations

are the foolish dreaming of an earth-constrained old optimist

out of touch with the world.

 

They will be there again morning-early as on guard

and they will look at me

as if to say

that all is well but that I should not take them for granted

and although some inferior beast has bitten one crimson cheek

it has nothing to do with them.

 

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