April 2013

Chihuahua ravens
in my garden wake me up
to break up their bread.
An unkindness of ravens
they are--only slightly more

sophisticated
than a murder of crows--but
unmated brothers
returning every spring
to help feed the new ones seems

so charitable
that I make myself get up
and put out breakfast
in a tray on my back porch.
While I'm making coffee they

swoop down for the bits
of sourdough, then head for
the jacaranda.
Cackles and coffee convince
me to accept my own life.