A wet black crow landed in
a tree, finding shelter from
a storm that he was trying to
flee. Disposed his down of
the rain, he shuddered then
tucked his head under his wing.
The storm howling through the
woods would not get any better,
he hid in the foliage to dry his
feathers. I did not see him by
mistake, he flew by my head into
the tree dark and smart, and he
used it as a windbreak.
I walked ahead quickly leaving the
crow to rest like humans he is
doing his best. “Trying to survive,
trying to keep alive”.
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2 thoughts on “Weathering the Storm…”
I love the metaphor.
[smiles] Thank you. Ann
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