Crow hops through the wet
parking lot, steam curling up
past his wings, pecks a cup
abandoned near a white van.
The sky is cloudless now,
but moment ago, it began
pouring out grey fans
of rain on the hot asphalt ,
and crow hid himself from
the rain. Not crow’s fault
that the rain had no alt-
ernative but to fall down,
and now that the rain is
gone, crow hops around,
pecks at cups and frowns
at all the customers.
This poem was originally published under the pen name Gabriel Gadfly.
