Three mornings in a row,

two nervy crows shock us

out of bed. A felony

when business trips demand

we play at catch-up sex

and snooze long after daylight slits

through fir and spruce.


You arm yourself with plastic bowls

and storm the yard with no desire

to forge a truce. Quiet! wakes

the neighborhood and Tupperware dings

the gutter tin, tagging two obnoxious wings

that can’t conceive a woman

in a flowered gown with fire

in her deep brown eyes

could strike so quick.


I knee the bed and snap the shade.

Formidable, I think.

Yes! That’s your word.

And as I search alternatives –

daunting, fearsome, tough,

impressive, mighty, difficult

it’s fact: No annoying thing

in this sleepy universe

stands a chance.


Before these words can draft

a poem, your final salvo smacks the roof:

Note this address. Don’t come again!

Pulling down the shade, I wait for trees

to stop their shuddering.


Featured image credit to author. 

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