Out my open window
is a crow, cawing as loud
as a crow can caw.
Each caw is the same,
no varying tones,
caw, caw, caw.
Across the room,
sunlight pours in the window,
glaring off the glass, the
keyboard, my eye glasses.
The light and the sound
meet somewhere in the
middle.
It's a scene bathed
in the sounds and
sights of Autumn.
I look and listen to
both, hoping one
or the other will,
provide me with the
words.
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