My Favourite Crow.
PETISH In
endearing looks,
It comes in the appointed hour
Of each day, sits
in its own
Selected corner, right side of
The curved balcony. I wait for
the affectionate swoop
and its
Cawing, cawing. Pecking the
Small rice balls, looking askance
Checking every now and then,
If I am there. As a child
How often, I used to play
With the fallen feathers,
In my grown up
stage, they
were my book marks,
now I pray the
feathers
should not drop. Delighted
Crow goes back
to its abode
On the green tree, clustered
With orange boughs. Tomorrow
Comes for both .
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