Voices on the Wind Open Theme
Fish Crow by James F. Gaines Black despair He catches my eye Serious above battered Dodge hulks No more used car rigmarole for him Flight feathers wind rumpled He holds his balance above Commuters' dull flat journeys Broken promises or waiting for miracles All perfunctory Cellphone calls from human to human Recorded yet unanswered Insignificant as ants To him we are no more than grosso modo While his caw commands Distant responses Describing catfish jowls Or the detritus of crabs Scientists say He can vocalize Thirty-seven different ways But the same four notes Are all he ever spends on me