A crow hops the curb and
Nonchalantly lifts a wing
To wave a car by.
Like a matador and a bull.
With nothing in his black eyes
He saunters across the walk
And the lawn to the hedge
And struts in front of the mockingbird's
Nest. Oblivious
To the mockingbird's histrionics,
And in full view of the mockingbird chicks
With their mouths open wide,
He gobbles up their supper
Then coolly saunters on.
I know that nothing.
Francis Santaquilani
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/that-nothing/
