Elijah

Yesterday, a crow

alighted on a branch

half way up the tree

just outside our home.

He sat there for

much of the morning,

cawing from time to time,

expanding his feathers

as I walked near, and

one or two times feigning to

fly away. He did not.

I fed him three hamburgers

and several whole

wheat rolls. He gladly ate them,

and managed off with what he

did not eat there on the spot.

To where I do not know.

Except that it was just over the bluff

of snow on the edge of the forest

of tall pines.

I called him Elijah.

He flew to me at the end of the day,

landing fifteen feet from where I stood.

He mumbled something in crow,

I am sure it was to tell me “thank you” or

that “the meat would have been better raw”,

but, whatever he said, he said it while

bounding toward me one hop

at a time. He left.

He was not there this morning, but two

new crows took the chicken that

I left out for Elijah. They were

skittish, though, jumping into flight

as soon as I left the house. They did

not turn back to offer thanks

or complain about the meal. They

flew in the thick of the pines,

never to be seen again.

The chance encounters we have

with nature call forth something

deep in us. Some primal passion of

being in harmony with the ALL.

I wonder, would these birds

all become my family if

my life took a downward turn and

I lived among the fields and

caves as a wildman or hermit.

We stand on the outer edge of a larger

circle of life than we could ever imagine

only because we have kept its rugged

simplicity at bay for “greater things”.

What does the crow know of digital

communication. Can a bear know of a

downturned market. Have we stretched

the canvas of our lives tightly over

the original painting of unity

and harmony – all for a shadowed

image of what lies hidden beneath.

It comes to us,

many times in a lifetime,

cawing to us to remove

the canvas that covers

our original face.

Most often, we are

headed somewhere else

and do not take the time

to feel its presence already

deep within our core. We move on,

afraid of what our lives would

look like, if we received gifts

from the crows.

Ciao!

tjm+