Member-only story
Feathered Protector
Poetry
Murder bird,
watching, waiting,
being sly,
perched in a tree
underneath the cloudy sky.
I peer out the window
observing the little
spy,
posing the question
why.
Staring, scheming,
somewhat perplexing,
his silent powers
keep on flexing.
Gray skies
make this scene
more haunting,
making my tasks
for the day
more daunting.
The crow sits
full of majesty,
guarding me
from life’s biggest
tragedy.
He caws
signaling the troops
to come post haste,
protecting history
from being erased.
© Dave Logan 2025
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