deepundergroundpoetry.com
Crow and Squirrel
The lone crow's bark echoes against the gray still sky,
It does not see the cold squirrel below,
Dinner for many, feast for one, who we are after we die,
The crow could surely eat the flesh and surely nibble upon the marrow,
If only it would look at the dead below instead of the gray still sky.
It does not see the cold squirrel below,
Dinner for many, feast for one, who we are after we die,
The crow could surely eat the flesh and surely nibble upon the marrow,
If only it would look at the dead below instead of the gray still sky.
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