Child of the Large-Beaked Bird The crows are up to no good, tapping the tin roof like it’s Miss Glover’s School for Awkward Girls, all juke, jig and ja-ja. My granddog doesn’t approve, not the rooftop trapeze or the tomfoolery in the garden, mischievous pecks gouged around the scarecrow’s eyes. They’re toying with me. I’ve tried to bribe them— fresh fruit, cat food, sequins, propped myself nearby, full lotus, trilling. Why subject myself and this prized pooch to the insufferable?...
