blue skies poetry

Big crow tapping in
a parking lot, all
colours soak into
its shiny fire of black.
Wounded, unable to fly,

it scorns the cars
and trucks driving past,
ceremonious as a potentate
demanding bowed heads
and obeisance

for it has slid upon
blue fields of sky,
discoursed with gods.

The smallness of these humans
is not impressive.

~ Gary Robinson

Gary Robinson is a writer from Ottawa and has
written poetry, short stories and plays. He is
currently almost finished his first collection of
poems.

Filed under: Gary Robinson by akublik Date 30 April, 2007