That great black crow winging and cawing for the last hour.
The last time it’s fanning wings beat over the yard, old Tripp gave a growl.
That brought me to a different level of attention; I brought my tea to the yard and sat.  © 2020 Rosemary Dooley

A Haiku:
Eyes upon the earth.
Breakfast moves beneath the soil.
The great black crow waits.     © 2020 Deborah

The great black crow with murderous eyes
looks into your soul and see’s the lies.
It spies, lives, loves and dies.
Never to fly, unable to even try.     © 2020 A Hattam

Beginnings
The great black crow flew in from the east, the rising sun glistening off ebony wings, sharp eyes seeing all below.
There! That rise from which the world could be observed!
This was the place from which words hidden within the swirling smoke would be spoken!
This place, from which earlier prayers had risen.
It would become renewed;  secrets would be whispered, dreams would be born or wither before they could be made manifest.
From this chosen place, great deeds would be announced, wars lost or won, kings would be crowned or condemned.
From here would go one who would destroy one world and create another.
The crow landed, plucked one lone feather from near its beating heart and placed it firmly in the soil.
A passerby, moving through the pale light of dawn, thought he saw an old man bending over, placing something on the earth. But a second glance proved him wrong, as he watched a large crow lift from the ground and take flight.
He could not know, in that moment, he had witnessed the creation of the place from which the Pythia, the Oracle of Delphi, would rise anew.       © 2021 Eschate/J. Amar

“The great black crow, he said, “Grok!””
“He said what?”
“He said, “Grok!”
“Well, wha’da’ya know!
You know what this means,
He’s not what he seems!
If he were a crow,
He’d be rather sma’
And he’d utter a caw!
But a grok! What a shock,
He’s a RAVEN!       © 2021 Storm