Everybody seems to be still full asleep – the first bus, the closed eyed shutters in the buildings, the butterflies in my green garden.
On the electric wire, two young crows, a wing distance between the two of them.
She’s looking straight ahead.
His head is turned towards her, his beak moving.
My window is closed, I cannot decipher the crow crow monologue, yet for sure I won’t open the window and invade their privacy.
She stays still, unmoved.
He ventures two tiny steps closer.
Then off he flies. Where to?