This week I wish HAPPY THANKSGIVING to all my friends in America.

May your celebrations be filled with peace and love.

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BROKEN BREAD FOR THE FLOCK

They came for the left-over Thanksgiving stuffing.
Don’t throw it away, you said.
Toss it in the back yard.

Someone will eat it.

All morning, crows have called to each other,
swooped from the neighbor’s bare apple tree in shifts,
gathered their meals on the ground.
Satisfied, they resettle on vacant branches,
become sentries who maintain the perimeter
so others may eat.

Bits of cold bread and celery break apart
in sharp black beaks over a plate
of snow.

I swear they see me
through the living room window.
Each time I move, they scatter,
wary, eyes locked on my shadow.
I want to whisper a welcome,
say this is an offering,
that they are not thieves.

 An INTERVIEW with Kath

Thank you for three wonderful poems xxx

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