"fostering connection through a life of creative integrity"

Keene, NH, USA
male, age 52
single
Joined Jul 6, 2008

more about Rowland Russell »

CROW PLAN

Where do crows go when it rains?
I picture them in dusky
      midnight taverns,
the neon blush of Schlitz and Miller
      a dull patina on slick ebony feathers.
Others cluster in the hard
      shadows of alleyways,
      blinking at street-lights and pulling slowly
            on shared cigarettes,
      waiting for morning.

When I look for them though, I find
      only the bar stools
      worn shiny by their scaly feet,
            and cryptic crow graffiti
            scrawled on the wet brick.
They must have a home
      but I do not know where it is.

To find it, I
      have been told I
      must have a plan.
By habit,
I decide to search first - all
      the places I do not
      expect to find crows,
so that I will not be
      greatly disappointed
      at my lack of success.
It is a comfortable plan
      but it does not help me to find crows.

I find pigeons though.
I decide that from now on I
      will look for them instead.
I am quite successful,
      though the search feels hollow.
There are many pigeons
      but I do not actually care
      where they go when it rains.
It is a comfortable plan
      but it does not satisfy me.

I make a new commitment to
      finding crows.
This time I will ask for help.
 An old man at the bar
      says he knows the place,
        his daughter married a crow.
His rough hands smooth
      a wrinkled napkin.
He draws a map.
I slip it into my pocket and leave.
Outside, I walk confidently
      in the opposite direction.
      I am not ready to find
      what I am looking for,
          but I am unwilling to appear unsure.
It is a comfortable plan
      but it does not bring me any nearer to crows.

I stop.
The rain laughs in puddles
      on the sidewalk.
Time stretches between lamp posts.
A low light touches the
      heavy undersides of clouds
      to the east and I move again.
I walk randomly,
      navigating the narrow streets
      by intuition.
I am wet.
I am tired.
I am not sure where I am
      or where the crows are.
Morning is coming
      and I am far from home.
I keep walking.
It is not a comfortable plan
      but it is the one
      that matters most to me.

R.S. Russell