With Respect to P.H. Emerson’s Fairy Tale, “The Crows”
I woke up this morning to the sound of crows cawing outside my window.
As I lay staring at the ceiling, I wondered how many were gathered in the yard, perched along the aging wooden fence, watching. And waiting. Was a single bird calling out in search of a friend? Were there two or three, or more, chasing away the deer that liked to nibble on Mom’s yellow roses?
Maybe they were trying to tell me something, as only crows can do.