Three Crows

Yesterday during my short walk in the neighborhood I felt like I was being followed by

Three Crows.

They flew and cawed overhead, leaving and returning, leaving and returning, cawing and cawing, until finally, at the end of my walk they landed in the tall bare branches of a nearby tree. I photographed them there though you have to look very closely to see the 3 crows in the photo at the top of this post.

Strangely I felt as if the crows were accompanying me on my walk, signaling me to look up and notice them. There are many interpretations around seeing crows. I am fanciful enough to look up the supposed meanings and to read them and wonder at the imaginative way others see the world.

Crows

In Japan, in Seattle, In Indonesia—there they were—
each one loud and hungry,
crossing a field, or sitting
above the traffic, or dropping

to the lawn of some temple to sun itself
or walk about on strong legs,
like a landlord. I think
they don’t envy anyone or anything—

not the tiger, not the emperor,
not even the philosopher.
Why should they?
The wind is their friend, the least tree is home.

Nor is melody, they have discovered, necessary.
Nor have they delicate palates;
without hesitation they will eat
anything you can think of—

corn, mice, old hamburgers—
swallowing with such hollering and gusto
no one can tell whether it’s a brag
or a prayer of deepest thanks. At sunrise, when I walk out,

I see them in trees, or on ledges of buildings,
as cheerful as saints, or thieves of the small job
who have been, one more night, successful—
and like all successes, it turns my thoughts to myself.

Should I have led a more simple life?
Have my ambitions been worthy?
Has the wind, for years, been talking to me as well?
Somewhere, among all my thoughts, there is a narrow path.

It’s attractive, but who could follow it?
Slowly the full morning
draws over us its mysterious and lovely equation.
Then, in the branches poling from their dark center,

ever more flexible and bright,
sparks from the sun are bursting and melting on the birds’ wings,
as, indifferent and comfortable,
they lounge, they squabble in the vast, rose-colored light.

   — Mary Oliver

 

All I know is that I love seeing and hearing crows. And being followed by three crows seemed like a lucky sign from the universe. Their raucous cawing yesterday during my walk reminded me to pay attention, stay in the moment, and be grateful for everything around me.

May you walk in beauty.