Monday, June 9, 2014

Juggling Crows

On April 14 Irene wrote:

Ode To Moss

Green and burgeoning, I leaned
toward the lichens and moss
against the cascade of leaves.
Crow nowhere in sight. My belly
full of butterflies. Ripples
clutching like a newborn.

When my boy was still sucking
a pacifier, I was writing
a paper and preggers and did
not imagine the pleasure it
would give, juggling like this;
all growth, stoney moss.

Not yet done with crows, I replied:

Juggling Crows

I watched you juggle
twelve crows at one time, then add
a glass of water
balanced on your chin.

(And you were pregnant that spring
with your second child.)

I thought how way cool
you are to so well train crows.
They hold still for you.

They eyed you but stayed
sleek on the up and the down
and you caught them each
without spilling a drop.
You started doing a jig
and the lead crow squawked.
Lovey, what a hoot!

‎April ‎15, ‎2014 1:37 PM

See Irene's blog Orange Is A Fruit


  1. two lovely poems.
    nice to be back reading you.

    1. My goodness! What a lovely surprise.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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