Watching Crows Dive.

Watching Crows Dive

by james bezerra

I wonder if some of the crows

are wilder than others.

If there’s one out here with me

watching dust devils dance

who swoops up right above it,

wraps his wings around himself

and lets the gravity take him,

down

down

down

into the swirl of dirt and dust

and waits just that

half a second longer

than any other would -

because in that half a second there is everything -

before he snaps his wings out

and lets the hot air spit him out.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Up.

Testing the tenacity

of death

and the width

of his own

fortitude

while I just sit here

in the bed of this pick-up truck,

drinking a bottle of beer.

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