“ Old Crows ” ~ fly by in rows ~


Alas old crows,

Ever so black

Fly by in rows,

Tho rather old

For winter flights,

Must suffer cold

And failing sight,

Be on spent wings

Bide dying light

Heading for spring

To end their plight,

That they might rest

Thru dead of night!

9 thoughts on ““ Old Crows ” ~ fly by in rows ~

    • Paulette… you made me laugh… If you’re a numerologist, stop now! You can only be as old as you think… yes think, not feel as the saying goes, for often times life unfairly makes you feel older than you are or think you’ve become.

      Personally I won’t be old until I’m no more, and by then I’ll not have know what old means.

      So cheers my dear… Jean-Jacques

      • Bravo… We need to live life looking at the funny side of everything we humans do. It allows one to stay sane. Sadly I find myself needing to write about sad things we humans seem hell bent on imposing on fellow beings.

        Terrific your line, “the child in me keeps smothering the old crow”. Keep that child well fed, for yourself, and for the many of us, two legged and four, who know the worth of Paulette, and how scarce be the likes of this fine lady.


  1. Serendipity – I have been following the antics of the crows that congregate around the Vancouver Seawall. I find myself looking for them as I head out first thing in the morning. I am never disappointed – for they are there to greet me 🙂

    • They have fascinated me for as long as I can remember, the crows, in and for all manner of reasons. They with oodles of other fascinating birds are forever around our gardens knowing they’ll be fed by dear Marianne.

      I have written a number of poem versions on the Crow. One or two early versions are still on my blog. And of course of the same family published in 1845 “The Raven” by one of my most favoured authors, Edgar Allan Poe, his poem published in 1845 of which I leave with you the last verse of this lengthy 18 verse poem.

      And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted – nevermore!

      Sweet dreams, dear Rebecca, and of course do sleep well…!


      • I’m so glad that you share of fascination with crows. Thank you for the Edgar Allan Poe verse – “and my soul from out that shadow…” goosebumps!!! Have a great day….life is good.

      • Everything black fascinates me, and especially the shiny jet black of these large birds. As to Poe, in spite of his black tortured writing, I’m absolutely certain that down deep a lot of his darkness is motivated by a weird, yet profound sense of humour. How could he not with his magnificent brand of writing.

        Ciao, Jean-Jacques

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