Cat and Crow Have a Quarrel
Upstairs,
my cat sits in this open window and watches, sniffing smells carried on the winds
of sunset. Without warning, black
feathers flash filling the frame, as old crow lands on the nearest branch of
the maple that shelters our home. What a
rumpus. Their arguments grate, their
words need oiling; each one huffed up and cursing the other. Fearing the screen may not hold, I clap my
hands to distract them. They yield, and
old crow flies off into the twilight. The
cat sulks and stares, searching for feathers.
All I can hear now is my heart drumming the beats of this battle. Evening closes its shadows over their
squabble and the air grows still, as if nothing had happened. Then the cat’s head jerks to the left; something
is stirring the darkness.
Words
and photo are ©copyright 2011-2013 Carol Steel.
