by Susan Vespoli
after Ada Limon’s poem
![]() |
AI-generated graphic by NightCafé for The New Verse News. |
More that the flock of raucous crows
heckling the tomcat that was stalking
them. The cat leaping from brick wall
to roof, the birds flapping wings like hands
on hips. More than the banding together of prey
to ward off the predator. More than the bright
hot sun as backdrop, glowing from behind
silver-edged clouds like a steadfast parent
or friend or religious painting, it’s the bravery
of the avian community, rising up to scream,
using their voices as ruckus to say no no no
to the fanged jaws and ice-pick claws of the one
who salivates to devour them. And the orange
cat, perched in the underbelly of palm fronds, falls.
Susan Vespoli writes from Phoenix, AZ and believes in the power of poetry to stay sane.
