by Buff Whitman-Bradley
on Earth Day 2023
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| Art by Yinza |
At Taco Bell
I watch a crow
Reconnoiter the parking lot
For scraps and morsels
Of sustenance.
With it’s dagger-like
Sleek black beak
It flips over
Discarded take-out cartons,
Pokes into empty soda cups,
Snaps up torn bits
Of tortillas,
All without surrendering
A shred of its natural dignity.
As it struts defiantly,
Like a corvid Napoleon,
In front of oncoming cars,
Its spine remains perfectly straight,
Its head held high,
Its bearing proud.
“Get me a burrito,”
The crow orders.
“Hot sauce?” I ask.
“Get me a root beer,”
The crow commands.
“Small, medium, or large?”
I inquire.
Here is a bird
Of natural authority,
A bird with no self-doubt,
A bird who was born
To take charge.
You’d think with all
These leadership qualities
Crows might have an interest
In running for public office, but
Too smart to be Republicans,
Too forthright
To be Democrats,
Crows are dyed-in-the-quills anarchists
Who believe that no crow
Is better than any other crow,
And that no government is better
Than no government.
Buff Whitman-Bradley’s poems have been widely published in print and online journals. His latest book is And What Will We Sing? (Kelsay Books). He podcasts at thirdactpoems.podbean.com and lives in northern California with his wife, Cynthia.
