Raven

A raven thrusts his

beak deeply into still

unmarked water,

looking around suspicious

at every strange

two-legged creature.

I wonder if he knows

we provide his

livelihood

with our heedless waste.

I’m looking at his

golden eyes-

meeting them as level.

He drinks deeply

of his own reflection

and then opens his

wound-red mouth

to scream,

to devastate

the morning air.

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