Battle of ravens- the gardener called
At our office today with a chest of dead ravens.
Wounds on other parts of the body
Except the head could not be found.
We buried the chest under the
parasite tree.
It is yellow, bearing another
In a perfectly healthful and flourishing state.
The remarkable flight of crows
Took off from their wire nest,
Flying east by south in perfect silence,
And no apparent diminution of their numbers as time passed on.
Toads repeatedly
swallow fire-
Do they remember or care about the pain?
Squids of
New York are tossed
On the ice of post glacial communication.
In the spring there is a sudden uprising of fish.
This is the song of the singing mice:
Do it do wee woo, wee woo.
Last night his song was renewed.
P.S. I have thus far failed to secure
This little rodent musician.