The Sacred Masculine: prompt
Carlitos The Crow
a poem
Published in
2 min readJul 10, 2020
Bold, brash, beautiful
Carlitos the Crow
flies to the corner of the roof,
surveys peanuts on our patio,
breakfast for his kind and squirrels.
His head tilts right, left, right,
he listens to distant bird sounds,
maybe warnings of the fox —
no, just chatter, always chatter.
He glides to the patio’s edge,
focuses his brown-red eyes on us
as we watch from our porch,
sometimes calling him by name.
He shimmies toward the first peanut,
swallows it to the back of his throat
two more nuts in his beak, sometimes three,
he nods to us in gratitude and rises.
He soars above the stone path, across the lake,
his black wings glistening in morning sun
as they beat confidently through summer air
heavy with humidity that fails to slow his motion.
