The other day —
7 crows lingered in the road as I coasted to a stop. Long morning seconds rolled as I watched until two flew off, then three, and then the last pair. They struck north through the logged 40 (out-of-state owners). I looked harder at the road to see what had brought them there but saw nothing to explain it.
I drove on, satisfied that I had been polite enough. There were important things to do. Lists.
Later — maybe I hadn’t looked closely enough. 7 crows — I had passed by and missed the point. That evening on my way home I stopped at that same place and saw — dirt.