On The Way To The Library
Two oily crows play chicken with cars
idling at a traffic light. Inches
from a tire, the birds jackhammer
gray pavement for a smashed tidbit.
This is the only task of the
eternal moment, to eat six times
one’s weight every day, even
if that meal sits on a four-lane
boulevard. One crow grabs
a prize hunk and rises
with helicopter wings, landing
on the crosswalk light.
The other pecks and pecks again,
unaware of the thrumming metal
bull looming next to it.
The light changes. I drive past.
Crow remains.
