The Tale of a Fat Ugly Crow on a May Afternoon
In front of my living room window,
on a splendid May afternoon, warm and sunny,
a fat crow rapturously caws over its good fortune.
I watch in morbid fascination
as it tears apart a rodent.
Can't fault the crow, a natural predator.
It studiously picks away at that small, unfortunate animal,
guts torn, splayed.
The next morning, not a morsel left on the street,
not even a bloodstain, I checked.
Russia is tearing apart Ukraine without remorse,
destroying homes, churches, schools, hospitals, piece by piece,
disrupting millions, traumatizing the children,
injuring and killing civilians,
ripping away the guts and sinew
of a once proud sovereign nation.
Soon it too will be left without a morsel
while the world watches from the window.
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Author's Note
The story of this poem speaks for itself. It is featured in The Write Launch July, 2022 online literary magazine with two poems of mine. Writing poetry helps me come to terms with difficult contemporary issues.
Putin does remind me of a fat bloodstained crow. Enjoyed.
Such an interesting contrast, nature wasting nothing, man wasting everything.
*.
Title alone.
;)
Beautiful!
Dianne's comment rings true!*
An evocative analogy, though, one the whole, the crow comes off more favorably.
It's natural for a crow to kill a rodent to feed itself. It seems to have become natural to destroy another country and kill its people just for the fun of it or just because it can.
Thank you for standing up for Ukraine, and people everywhere, anywhere, being attacked by a bully twice their size. They kill to kill, not to defend. That should tell you everything.