II - CROW LOVE
High in the Queen Palm, bowered
Within the long bearded fronds,
She lowers her glistening head
To him and waits, but he's
Busy, on purpose or not,
With blunt beak rifling
Through the tags of old fronds.
Earnestly, she sidles closer to him
Her neck curved deliciously,
Waiting for his attentions.
But still he's busy doing
A crow's relentless work
And won't be hurried
And she doesn't hurry him
But her charms are inevitable.
So he turns, touches her,
Strokes her gleaming neck feathers,
Goes further and teases
The delicate skin underneath.
She bows lower and sighs,
As if she could, and then shivers
With this overflowing
Of earthly delight.
Rochelle Cocco
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