As the Crow Flies…

Or Not…

I cannot pretend a specialist knowledge of the crow. True said crow has a purposed gait. A gentle hop or strut seems oft-more style dependent on the current need or then again, perhaps, for flight. Crows enjoy the gather to keep warm, to share news of the day…there is food here…there is no food there…and have you heard of our dear crow friend…

Some, would say the shortest distance between point a and point b is a straight line…known too as the crow flies. I stumble with the latter for as the crow flies implies that said flighted one knows its distance, able to let go of distractions…I consider this not to reflect truth over long distance. However, if one considers the crow to be a determined species of short hops to a specific point, I concede. That it knows its way from Paris to Brussels without departures…the crow does not…the crow will take its time…it will rest.

But of one thing I do know. Crows can remind me…to be playful as in a recent happened-upon gathering of these feathered ones settled within a water feature. There they were…they did not pose…perhaps a dozen or more…set upon their advantages watching ones and others…as each took their turn to refresh. To cool their crow feet and feathers, bills within gentle rippling water as the fountain poured its calm natures across its slope to the plain and as geysers simmered to rise as columns of surprise.

Here these crows brought memory. Once again crows brought dear reader…dear writer…taking me specially to their cousins of Flanders who in their ways provided their cantor at Ploegsteert, laughter at Mesen, and their dance to the Groete Marke amidst the bells. Their ways are reminders of my somewhere in Belgium… 2016…Now time to rest before a return to the dance…to a similar gait…as the crow flies or not…enjoying the departures from the trail.