Due to last week's story on crows, I still have the birds on my mind...

...specifically, this poem by Mary Oliver.

In another poem, she writes:

Drive down any road,

take a train or an airplane
across the world, leave
your old life behind,

die and be born again~
wherever you arrive
they'll be there first,

glossy and rowdy
and indistinguishable.
The deep muscle of the world.