The crow without a name.

by blossom666

The crow  visits me so often now, I greet her with no name.
It took a while for me to see, it wasn’t just a game.
She doesn’t hardly say a word and I wouldn’t call her tame.
And yet she whistles out to me, as though she knew my name.

So often I have seen them there I know them of by heart.
Yet still I ponder earnestly the place that I should start.
I tell myself to write them down, create a flowing chart
see the meanings of the numbers now, I know them in my heart.

I see a feather on the ground and another by the door.
I saw one floating on the breeze last week as I sat upon the shore.
I kept a tally of these beauties but they just kept coming, more and more
now I keep them lovingly just inside my door.

I saw a penny on the floor left it there to rest,
didn’t think a moment more it could be of in-terest.
I saw another and a couple more as I wandered to the west,
now I know to keep those coins, lovingly with the rest.

I needed answers for my thoughts but knew not what to ask.
The things I know I have to learn were not taught inside a class.
I have to listen, see and know, as we have done in the past.
The universe shows me now the things I need to ask.

Karen Hayward ©2016