by Buff Whitman-Bradley
on Earth Day 2023
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At Taco Bell I watch a crow Reconnoiter the parking lot For scraps and morsels Of sustenance. With it’s dagger-like Sleek black beak It flips over Discarded take-out cartons, Pokes into empty soda cups, Snaps up torn bits Of tortillas, All without surrendering A shred of its natural dignity. As it struts defiantly, Like a corvid Napoleon, In front of oncoming cars, Its spine remains perfectly straight, Its head held high, Its bearing proud. “Get me a burrito,” The crow orders. “Hot sauce?” I ask. “Get me a root beer,” The crow commands. “Small, medium, or large?” I inquire. Here is a bird Of natural authority, A bird with no self-doubt, A bird who was born To take charge. You’d think with all These leadership qualities Crows might have an interest In running for public office, but Too smart to be Republicans, Too forthright To be Democrats, Crows are dyed-in-the-quills anarchists Who believe that no crow Is better than any other crow, And that no government is better Than no government.
*
Buff Whitman-Bradley’s poems have been widely published in print and online journals. His latest book is And What Will We Sing? (Kelsay Books). He podcasts at thirdactpoems.podbean.com and lives in northern California with his wife, Cynthia.
"died in the quill" is priceless.