She stood on a ledge near my shoulder
a hand’s breadth away from me;
when I dared to move even nearer,
she stared unwaveringly.
Would you offer a bit of pine,
said I, as if it were costly balm
to an anxious, stormy heart like mine
that’s abandoned all hope of calm?
She listened quite appreciatively
iridescent in the sun;
she shook her feathered livery
as if we were having great fun.
Merrily she offered to play a game
of trading a twig for a twig;
“You’re just a bird, you have no shame,
for my suffering you don’t give a fig!”
So saying I turned to walk away
when she fluttered behind me and spoke:
“Can you not see me trying to say
in ways other than my usual croak,
“That God who made both man and crow
He daily bears our woe?
Caw! I’d share, if I could, in your sorrow,
but He bears it forevermore.”
I see eye to eye with a crow each day
And for that I am richly blest
For she and I share a provident day
As together in God we rest.