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Sunday, May 29, 2005

Crow 

Crows, heard through an open window, shouting defiance at each other. Or are they just shouting at the world in general? Shouting because they can and no-one can stop them. Contemptuous of the disturbance their raucous din brings to a Sunday morning’s peace.

Feet may stand indoors in suburbia on a warm spring day, but for a moment the crow’s call transports soul to a woodland in autumn on a chill, damp but equally quiet morning. Soft brown leaves betray no sound of footfall; tall trunks vanish into a thin mist, and echoing out of the mist, penetrating its silence, heedless of its stillness, comes that same harsh call. Defiant, commanding, omnipotent.

Such power in a sound.

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