© Sumanta Sanyal
Listen to the Poem
What seems like wild cacophony
really is a crow-symphony
of cheerful after-dinner song
sang with quite precise harmony
to make all crow-persons feel young.
Sleek black corvine wings swiftly swish
eloquent with gracile flourish
thru the pure pellucid noon air
as if carrying out the sweet wish
of some fondly-crowing cute crow-fair.
Mutinous the crow-babies shout
peevishly wanting to get out
but the cool crow-mothers are stern
firmly fastidiously about
what their crow-children should not learn!
Sagacious the crow-elders crow
about hot things happening below
and quite noisily interview
each democratic crow-fellow
on his or her point of view
the rash younger crows grow ribald
and caw improper words that scald
the tender ears of crow-ladies
who instantly turn to the bald
crow-leader for prompt remedies
and the crow-meeting is at last adjoin'd,
a full extempore song soon coin'd
with much bonhomie 'n' espirits
and a piece of fresh-bak'd bread purloin'd
for some beaksome crowish end-bits!