Friday, December 03, 2010

There is something poetically beautiful, yet depressing about seeing a giant black crow sitting in a snow covered tree first thing in the morning. They're always supposed to be bad omens, yet I stand, staring out the backdoor, watching the crow as he watches me. Meeting the gaze of a crow is oddly satisfying, almost a sign of approval. My only regret is not snapping a photograph of the only thing breaking up an entirely white scene of swirling snowflakes before he flew away.

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