FOUR PM

I pull my Adirondack chair at 4 PM p.m. onto the deck and wait.

Clear sky, a few ragtag clouds to west, and wait. Minutes tick by, this patience delectable, knowing they're on their way. Take a deep breath, a quiet delight  rising in the knees, and wait. Suddenly a distant squawk ripples the silver silence –out of the pine tops, across the Ridge, they arrive. In a loose grouping dozens of black crows heading east, now a conversation of crows fills the sky. An expectation of bliss on a winter afternoon, not disappointed.