I AM A CROW

I met her roadside, the way I meet most crows. I choose to think it was a girl, because she was covered in house paint. I likened her appearance to mine, so often smeared with some colour or other on my limbs or my face. Quirky. Wait - I am talking about her again, just to be clear.

I watched her. She was afraid of me, but not enough to resist the crumbly temptation I tossed beside my tire. There was an intensity to her stride, probably because of her fear, but she managed to make it look like an overconfident strut. 

There was so much paint on her head feathers that she hardly resembled her crow self, but princess was certain of her identity regardless. The way she walked, picked up the crackers and then flew off - everything she did proudly pronounced: I AM A CROW. You may be confused by my current attire, but rest assured it is just a temporary costume.

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Canada House Gallery