The Crows

 

(tea leaves photo by me)


The old crow flew down from the skies and perched next to me. Of all the times when I flew, he said in a gravelly voice, I wished to be on the ground. He cocked his head at me and waited for my reply. Instead, I set a small tin cup before him and filled it with my morning Tea. He cawed once, then lowered his beak into the warm liquid. Conversations are always important, I replied while he drank. That's why we are lost without them. The crow continued to drink the Tea. Just then, a woman with red hair and dressed in all black, walked up to us and sat down on the other side of me. I've forgotten how to think, she said in a singsong voice. The crow raised his head and cawed - then how are you talking now? His black beady eyes focused on her crooked smile. She closed her eyes and transformed into another crow. I stared off at the clouds and wondered if our thoughts betray us, or if we are the result of them. I then poured Tea into another cup and gave it to the second crow. 

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