Crow is Walking

Crow is walking
to see things at ground level,
the ground as new under his feet
as the air is old under his wings.

He leaves the dead rabbit waiting -
it's a given,
it'll always be there -
and walks down the dirt road,
admires the pebbles,
how they sparkle in the sun;
checks out his reflection
in a puddle full of sky
which reminds him
of where he's supposed to be,
but he's beginning to like
the way the muscles move in his legs
and the way his wings feel so comfortable
folded back and resting.

He thinks he might be beautiful,
the sun lighting his back
with purple and green.
Faint voices from somewhere far ahead
roll like dust down the road towards him.
He hurries a little.
His tongue moves in his mouth;
legends of language move in his mind.
His beak opens.
He tries a word.

-Grace Butcher


This poem was fairly easy to put into lines. The poet primarily used periodic sentences which made it easy to separate the ideas. I separated the poem into three paragraphs because I felt like the poem had three "scenes". The first scene introduces the crow, the second scene develops the personality of the crow, and the third scene shows the crow in action and experiencing new things.