Poem – Not a Crow After All

I told myself to write something today.
Something.
There, now I can look out my office window
and wonder about the male and female crow
who constantly perch in the large oak tree;
both of whom follow one another around,
day after day, and consistently fly within the
trees and forest surrounding out property-
Whom are in fact not crows at all, but Ravens!
I came to this realization while writing about
a particularly sinister Raven in my show story,
‘The Stump Maker,’ without having at first realized
they were Ravens. They cackle at one another,
and are larger than crows. Their feathers have a
sleek brightness which makes their heads shine in the
sunlight as they glide near my second story window,
and easily come to rest in the branches of the oak tree.
It was while writing about the Raven in my short story
that I witnessed an aerial battle between real crows and
my friends, the Ravens. And it was then that I observed
just how large a Raven is in comparison to a crow.
I haven’t seen the crows try to nest nearby since.
I see the Ravens daily. The cackle and follow each other.
I open the front door and wonder what their names are,
and about how long they might stay attached to this property.
I hope it’s a permanent situation.

-M. Taggart