To Crows
                 after John Keats

In years past they stole our ripened cherries 

our neighborhood community of crows

but they leave alone our ripe blueberries

though we cover planted bean seed furrows

sometimes a murder attracts attention

crows attacking a perched owl in daylight

often, they visit our fountain to perch

warning calls alarm by repetition

crows have no reputation to besmirch

they police our back yard as if by right

seeing off ravens harassing hawks

dive-bombing eagles pecking them in flight

juveniles a nuisance with demanding squawks

crouch shrugging their wings a pitiful sight

crows post sentries on tree top guard posts

organizing platoons that no one leads

at low tide crows congregate on the beach

for crabs for clams for what a tide pool hosts

fresh water for all within easy reach

from seven springs year-round that feeds

this tree lined quiet bay crows claim they own

clams that crows dropped lie splintered on the beach

tree stumps uprooted that riverbanks disown

rocks where otters took barnacles look bleached

crows know their enemies they know their friends

intelligent birds they know we exist

they trust us to bring their young to our yard

they’ve stolen cherries so they make amends

through crow generations this trust persists

their vocal croaking inspiring a bard

who learned his craft with crayon and paper

learning to use an opposable thumb

making marks that became words that caper

away from a keyboard his fingers now strum.

Dick Russell © Richard M Russell

                        2025