Crow Poem by Saroj Padhi

There was a time when our days
broke with cawing of crows from thatch eaves
with the magic of sun light on its enchanted wings
that traversed miles in quest of corn and carrion
to scavenge the world with a mission
and reveal the beauty of an eco-rich world
through its constant noisy communion;

house-wives could read the dear raven's tone
that augured the arrival of guests
and priests could predict the day from its voice;
mothers would feed their obstinate children,
to the crow at the bough, pointing their attention
and late-risers, wake up from sleep
by its fond morning commotion;

every pious morning
and on death anniversaries of our ancestors
we wait with our offerings of food
for its holy return
but they say the immortal bird
to a distant land forever is gone!