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One-Eyed Crow

Caged bird for sale, Mercado San Juan de Dios, Guadalajara, Jalisco, México

A one-eyed crow
glares at me from atop
the roadside birch.
If it had hands,
it would be waving me on,
disgusted by my clothes and hair,
which are caked with mud.
But crows have no hands,
and they cannot wave,
nor can they carry sabers
to cut down their foes.
If I could capture that crow,
I’d put it in a cage
lined with newspapers
and sell it—cheap—
at Saturday’s flea market.
Instead, I am retreating
from its mocking tongue.


Poem and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #126
More Poetry Pantry #368 at Poets United


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August sunset, Southern Arizona

a tattered scarecrow
puts on a new suit of clothes—
palm fronds at sunset
~~ ~~ ~~
enigmatic words
splashed blood-red against the sky—
ravens know the tongue
~~ ~~ ~~
a palm at sunset—
how the sparrows irritate
every thirsty frond
~~ ~~ ~~
gruesome little tales
wagged by pigeon tongues at dusk—
foxes slink away

Text and photo © 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More SkyWatch Friday
More Carpe Diem: “Lolly’s ‘New Scarecrow'”
More Three Word Wednesday: “Enigmatic, Gruesome, Irritate”

The Corner Thrift Store

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She wears simple clothes
with not a tear in the fabric,
with not a single button missing,
bought from the corner thrift store—
a scarf the color of buckwheat honey;
a skirt as black as a bell at midnight;
a chemise beaded with row upon row
of tiny white shells
gathered just before dawn.

I never tire of watching her
in her element:
the thrift store at the corner,
where the sidewalk is almost level,
and a sign in the window
says they have an opening
for someone who speaks Latin—
perhaps she will apply.


© 2015 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Poetry Pantry #250
More Sunday’s Whirligig #5