True Love And The Life Of A Crow

They both last forever

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

This morning was beautiful. I lay in bed, the caressing rays of the early morning sun streaming through the patio window. The rays filled our humble abode with warmth, light, joy, and happiness in equal measure.

We have our ritual of half an hour of cuddling and stroking each other’s arms, shoulders, and backs. It has a soothing effect that will last the whole day through and says far more than words ever can.

Beyond the veil of a joyous net curtain, our idyllic reverie is punctuated by the sounds of the world outside setting about its daily business.

Just beyond our small balcony, we hear the hard roll of small wheels and footsteps trundling and patting their way past. My wife calls out “Good morning Grandma.”

We don’t know who she is, but she passes at the same time every morning pushing some nondescript trolley full of nothing. The wizened old lady doesn’t even hear the greeting. She carries along with her business, buried deep in her own little world, oblivious to the world beyond her own thoughts of a history as deep as England and a wonderful life higher than the starstruck moon.

Then the crow perched upon the wire begins to caw his call to his or her mates in the small wooded area across the field. Maybe it’s a crow…