Fledgling

In our pine tree I have seen

the crows tending to their nest.

They have kept busy,

and to themselves.

This morning they attacked the squirrels

(who have heretofore had equal access to the tree)

and drove them to the ground.

I took out the recycle can

to add it to our big-blue-bin

and the crows became irate.

I said to them,

“It’s just me…

for Christ’s sake…”

but they carry no allegiance for Christ,

and they continued to caw.

Then one crow became apparent,

perched on the edge of the rail.

His eyes were alert, and curious.

With jet-black legs and a plumage

that radiated ruffled impulse

he gazed at me.

“The fledgling,”

I sighed.

He was out of the nest

and his folks were wary and pensive.

I shrank back into my home,

as he clumsily flew away.

I had intruded on his maiden flight,

which ended as he careened into my neighbors garage.

We've all been there.