Momentary Crow

Momentary Crow He glides through the mist, a disheveled crow nesting atop a refurbished Schwinn; wind rustles heavy plaid feathers. The same wind menopausal women applaud, the same wind firefighters curse, the same wind butterflies harness and ride. Wings release, rise then flap. A quick moment off balance and then he is righted. Molecules of moisture are displaced as his breast soars along on its quest. Alarms, voicemails, texts and finally time have melted like cane sugar in hot tea. A Toyota, off red - earlier glorious maroon, unexpectedly awakens the crow reminding him of earth and to fear. He is now aware of regularly spaced lines, white on the pavement beneath his claws. The beak inhales heavy, expended, black air-exhaust. Beady eyes dark like charcoal briquettes doused with lighter fluid see the red light just ahead. Feathers grip the aluminum handle bars for purchase - and once again the crow has landed.