I watch with wary eye the perched crow,
Though his movement be idle,
As his black beaded eyes lust for company,
Empathy another binding title.
He opens his sharp tongued beak
To speak of other grackle,
With which he fights for sky;
My approval he hopes to tackle.
Black breast reflecting the sun,
-Won over once by mischievous eyes-
Bejeweled face with obsidian,
A meridian left of tears and lies.
I call upon his wings to rest,
Breast beating with uncertainty,
But midnight feathers flap to outstretched arm,
No alarm of heart with new loyalty.