The Crows of Portland
The crows of Portland awaken prior to anyone else.
Before light touches buildings and the first cup of coffee is poured,
they observe the last patrons stumbling home from their bars.
The morning air is full of wisdom they share with one another,
though it sounds like mindless cawing to all who hear it.
Perched above leafless trees lining the city’s streets,
not a single secret escapes their gaze.
The territory ceded by moon, unclaimed by sun is their own.
During day they’ll still be here. At night they won’t sleep a wink.
For that is their talent which none can explain.
The black winged watchers know not a mystery
and see clearly the obscure.
Not a whisper is spoken they fail to hear.
Their knowledge transcends history, not a drop they’ll dispense.
Always cognizant, never unaware, they monitor the city.
The crows are without limit and cannot be stopped, Portland’s eternal witness.