Objects in a Field
by Gary Hardaway
The crows, blue-black and iridescent in
the bright, mid-morning sun, glean
the fallow field, pecking at the last
of the seeds and insects feeding on
the remnants left by the last mowing
a month ago. The dormant grasses, short
and brown, crouch a few inches above
this sliver of prairie surrounded, on the east,
by freeway, on the north by an urgent care
doc in the box, on the west by garden apartments,
and on the south by this Kia dealership.
A pair of wary squirrels scratch and sniff
a short scamper from the creek-bank undergrowth
that arcs from north-northwest to south-southwest
along the field's edge. The squirrels know
enough of crows to understand that they
will take their meat still breathing in a sudden
act of social cooperation.
Cacophony of an engine-braking eighteen-wheeler
scatters the crows to fences, trees and wires
in a startling chant of caw, caw, caw.
Excellent! Drew me in and made me reminisce about growing up in Wisconsin. Merry Christmas, Gary!
Thank you, Matt.
It's just a perfectly written scene, worthy of a Van Gogh painting *
I like what Foster said. I can see it.*
Thank you, Foster.
Thank you, Tim.
Lovely. I like crows ...
Thank you, Erika.
To me, this truly captures time spent waiting at a car dealership. I love the reverie--finding something interesting to see, something interesting to think--then the "startling" interruption. It's exactly like that. A wonderful depiction of the ordinary.
Thank you, Dianne.
Heartful and yet tense with the collision of nature and citylife; a cpativating piece Gary.
Thank you, Amantine.
Crows are special. And so is your poem. *
Thank you, Beate.
a lot of visuals and sounds in this piece which is a familiar pleasure to imagine.
Thank you, Neil.