Averted, staring past my busy day, I watched my feeding station for the birds, Was startled by a darkness come my way, Presenting me a greeting without words. It landed ten feet from my window sill, Unfurling wings that wide and velvet-black. This close it looked intense, as if to kill, As if it were all ready to attack. Well, now it started feeding; first it ate, But then it stuffed its beak with bits of bread And just flew off to feed its brooding mate That patiently was waiting to be fed. Where’s now the roguish rascal from of old? He plays the loving partner, taking care Of brooding matey, simply in the mold Of a good husband, quite without compare. That crow, he wasn’t dumb, but played it safe; He knew what would befall him if he left To go off with the boys, leave her a waif… ‘t Would stoke the fires of hell with her bereft! Caw, caw! Leo Zoutewelle was born in 1935 in The Netherlands and was raised there until at age twenty he emigrated to the United States. After retiring in 2012 he has written an autobiography and two novels (unpublished).