There once was a crow who had no name
Who never forgot a face.
He was an old crow with feathers thinned but with color so fine
His beak as sharp as talons.
His legs were small and its skin was cracked
Yet his eyes were bright and teasing
His words were wise and honest.
“Humans are such silly creatures.” He said one day and no one could disagree.
“I see them walking in their silly suites and in funny colors. Looking worse than a chimpanzee.” he continued.
“They would work and work yet not a single smile would pass through their gloomy faces.”
“They would take their children out to play but would never actually play with them.”
“They would mumble and worry and cry for no reason. Do they not know where their fears lay?”
“Do they not know that with every worried thought is another burden on their already heavy shoulders?”
“I pity them.” He said; his pitch so thin and high.
“I pity the animal whose intellect is superior yet whose race is slowly dying.”
“Dying from hunger and from poverty. From greed and from power.”
“They hurt one another like they are not of the same kind.”
“Of the same blood and of the same soil.”
“They are such silly creatures and yet-” He paused with chest so heavy and eyes downcast.
“-Yet when I see a child whose skin is as white as snow with another whose skin is as brown as the trunk of a tree play together, I cannot help but wonder.”
“When I see a man kiss a woman with cheeks so red and with a smile so big, I cannot help but remember.”
“And when I see them dance and sing may it be raining or snowing or they just felt the spur of emotions inside of them, I cannot help but continue to hope.”
“That, maybe, one day, things would get better.”
“I pray for that day.”
“When humans will be silly no more.”