The Crow's Farewell

 

I tried to nap, the noise too loud,
A cawing chorus, a feathered crowd.
I grumbled, annoyed by the din outside,
But something whispered, something cried.

My mother spoke, with a quiet sigh,
"A baby crow, I think, has died."
Along the wires, they lined up tall,
A sea of black, a silent call.

One by one, they gathered near,
Their caws grew soft, a sound so clear.
And then—silent—without a sound,
They mourned, their sorrow all around.

A lone crow dropped to check the ground,
Another followed, then without a sound,
They took their leave, in unity,
A final flight, so wild, so free.

And as they vanished, one by one,
I felt the weight of what they'd done.
A lesson learned in grief's soft wake—
A crow's farewell, for kindness' sake.