Roaming Frames

This weekend hubby and I went to Atlanta, Georgia to see a concert with Def Leppard, Journey, and Steve Miller Band. It was a blast, except for the heat and humidity. Well this morning, as I was admiring the very tall pine trees that were as tall as our hotel, when a crow flew by my window, almost hitting the glass, then settling on top of the tree and watching me. So I thought I’d write a little ode to the crow.

High atop the ten-story pine,
Where lush green needles form spiky balls,
A crow perches, ebony wings that shine,
Watching me from nature’s halls.

His eyes, like beads of midnight sky,
Gleam with secrets, ancient, bold.
Among the branches, reaching high,
He sits, a guardian of stories untold.

I, below in my hotel’s embrace,
Gaze at the landscape, lost in thought,
But feel the crow’s unwavering gaze,
As if in silent dialogue we’re caught.

The pine stands tall, a verdant tower,
With needles sharp, yet soft in light.
The crow, a symbol of nature’s power,
Watches over this serene sight.

In this moment, calm and clear,
We share the world, the crow and I,
Both observers of a realm so dear,
Beneath the expanse of an endless sky.