My poem about crows’ nests just appeared in the Fall/Winter 2021 (35th) Edition of The Comstock Review. “Crow Hold” was inspired by my friend Hilary who has been a wild bird rehabilitator for 30+ years. Many of the birds she has saved have been crows and she has several resident fellows who keep her and her husband and their cats amused every day. When I mentioned once the crows’ nests were such messy looking things in trees, she explained to me that crows are not born knowing how to grip and that the nests are constructed to teach this necessary skill. I was so impressed, I wrote the poem about it:
Crow Hold
Leaflessness reveals the mess
of a crows’ nest. Random twig
trash as though the dark goddess
forgot how to weave or kept
this secret from the lowly crow.
My friend who has tended injured
Corvids, studied their wings
and spindles, their eye shine,
tells me there are lessons
in the stash. Crows are not born
knowing how to grip. Parents
teach their young the opposable
talon, baton by baton, tightrope
by guidewire, limb and limber.
The fledglings learn their manners
on tines and knives. Become almost
human enough for violin. Not ours
to judge the shack at the edge
of the river, the canted tent
from which notes spill
like crooked silver.