Rain crow

The rain has let up a bit, and suddenly the flat sky holds a solitary crow rowing towards me through the drizzle. Its sleek blackness is compromised today: with each laboured wingbeat there is a flash of white from the down feathers that normally remain hidden from view. Abruptly it veers sharply to change course by ninety degrees.

Perhaps it suddenly became aware of me.

Perhaps it didn’t, and simply decided to go in another direction. Soon its diminishing shape is difficult to tell apart from the grey sky.

cloud burst

the flies are already

in the house